


Truths and Rumours

by QueenMegaera



Series: Rumours [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthurian references, F/M, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Violence, Novel-length fic, Sword in the Stone references, post series three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 37,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMegaera/pseuds/QueenMegaera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are loved by the people, The Knights of The Round Table are becoming legends, and the king's manservant is stumbling his way through Camelot as always. The King is on his throne and all is well. </p><p>Then the rumours start. Rumours about the king leaving his servant's bedroom late at night, about the Queen's heart belonging to another, and about strange things happening in the woods outside Camelot. Rumours that threaten to bring a whole kingdom down.</p><p>A post-series-three fic. NB! Previously posted as "All the King's Horses and All The King's Men" at FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Past Is Now Dead and Buried

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story has been on FF.net for a looong time, but when I set up my account here I saw it as a perfect opportunity to publish the more worked-through version, and change the title that frankly had nothing at all to do with what went on in the story, and just bring you a slightly better product over all. So, for anyone who hasn't read it already, here you are: my magnum opus.

_“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men_  
 _couldn’t put baby together again”_

\- Aimee Mann, _Humpty Dumpty_

_“_ _It’s over Morgana.”_

_“_ _No, you’re wrong. This has just begun.”_

The pain. The inhuman shriek tearing through her body – not a spell, but raw magic. She allowed it to possess her, to make her stronger, to tear down the walls around her. She allowed it to carry her away. When she hit the ground again with her sister in her arms, she didn’t know where they were, and she didn’t know if Morgause was alive. All she knew was that Merlin, that boy, Arthur’s servant boy, had managed to crush her twice in that hall – the first time when she had been terrified and alone and hadn’t known if the horrible things happening around her were her fault, and then again this time when she had been absolutely aware that the horrible things happening around her were her fault, but hadn’t been terrified, or felt guilty, because for the first time in so long, she hadn’t been alone. She’d had Morgause. She’d had a sister, and now that sister had nearly been taken away from her. Nearly – there was still a heartbeat, faint but steady underneath her fingertips.

 

**♦**

It took all her strength and all her contacts – or Morgause’s contacts – to bring her sister back to health, and even then Morgause had pains and aches that no magic seemed to cure. She’d been hit by a spell, the people they saw could tell Morgana that much, a spell that had sent her crashing into the wall or the floor and given her physical damage, but the spell itself had damaged her too and that was what turned out to be so hard to cure. Every sorcerer or sorceress they visited asked Morgana if she had heard which spell had done this, and when she said no, they only shook their heads. Morgana wondered who had cast it. Gaius had been in that room, and she knew he’d been involved in magic when he was younger, but was he really powerful enough to do this? He must have caught Morgause completely off guard. Of course, that wouldn’t have been hard, since Morgause had probably considered him absolutely harmless. Morgana surely had.

 

**♦**

It was on her various pilgrimages to find help for her sister that she heard of Uther’s death. She had barely thought about the passing of time, but they told her it had been a full year since she and Morgause had been driven out of Camelot. They told her Uther had never recovered, that he had been a broken man, and it soothed her somewhat to hear it. They told her Arthur had spent the year leading up to Uther’s death not only taking charge of Camelot but also looking for cures for his father, _their_ father, the same way she was doing for Morgause – although from completely different sources – and it made bile rise in her throat. That fool, how could he waste his love and care on a man like that? How could he forgive Uther? How could he be her _brother_? They told her Arthur was still looking for _her_ , too, but she refused to think about that. They told her Uther had passed away quietly in his sleep, and it was a far better death than he deserved, but she was still glad.  They told her long, embellished stories about the funeral: Uther’s coffin had been carried through the town between rows upon rows of black-clad citizens to the mausoleum where Uther’s father had been buried before him, and the knights of Camelot had stood guard around the building all day and all night for seven days, telling everyone who passed by about the tragic death of the King. Morgana could just picture it. So much fuss for that lying old hypocrite – it made her sick. They told her of Arthur’s coronation that had taken place when the seven days of mourning had ended: the celebrations only lasted for three days, but the people’s devotion and enthusiasm during those days far outweighed the half hearted mourning that had come before it, they said. Morgana had no trouble believing that.

Then, they told her that Arthur was going to marry Gwen, and Morgana laughed. Gwen, little Gwen, who had been her maidservant since she could carry a tray _._

_And I loved her,_ Morgana thought _. She spent her days in my rooms, she wore my old dresses, she ate of my food and she slept in my bed. For years, I thought nothing could come between us. And then Arthur smiles at her sideways and she throws it all out of the window. Keeping secrets from me, lying to me, stabbing me in the back._

It was hard to point out the exact moment when she had seen it in Gwen’s eyes, when she had noticed that the girl’s loyalties had shifted. But it had hurt. And then, to add insult to injury, there was that pathetic little act Gwen had put on during Morgana’s short reign, pretending that their friendship was as solid as ever when it was clear that she didn’t have a morsel of honest fondness for Morgana anymore. So she was to be married to Arthur now. Morgana had every reason to laugh at that. She had seen the way Gwen had been mooning over Lancelot. She had heard the tone in Gwen’s voice when she talked about the knight. That girl didn’t love Arthur.

_You used to fuss over me when you brushed my hair, and ramble on about the day when I would be Queen of Camelot, Arthur’s queen, like everyone thought I’d be. Ever since you were really just a child, it would make your eyes glow to talk about it. You couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to see me there, to be there by my side. I guess you decided you could do even better. Poor old Lancelot_.

_And poor me_ , a tiny voice at the back of her head supplied, but she quenched it. She wasn’t the one who would be sorry in the end. They’d see.

 

**♦**

Finally, on one of her travels, she found Mordred again. She nearly began to cry when he ran into her arms. She didn’t want to let him go, ever again. She introduced him to Morgause, and she told him of everything that had happened since their roads had parted. She told him about the mysterious spell. She told him about how they had left Merlin in chains in the middle of the woods and how baffled they had been at his return.

Mordred looked at her and said:

“I thought you knew.”

 

**♦**

In a little village on the edge of the kingdom, they heard about the girl.

According to the local gossip, little Mim had begun to show signs of magic when she was only four years old. A frightened horse had careered straight towards her, and while her mother had not been close enough to do anything but scream in horror, the little girl had covered her eyes – and the horse had crashed to the ground with an unnatural screech that not one of the villagers had ever been able to forget. When they had walked up to the girl and the animal, they had seen that the guts of the horse had been torn open as if it had been attacked by a vicious beast. Since that time, no one in the village let any animal come near the girl.

The girl was a few years older now. When Morgana and Morgause found her she sat alone in a back yard, shunned, playing with pine cones that she would magically set aflame. They talked to the girl’s mother, asked about her. The woman was clearly afraid of her own child.

They left that night, taking the girl with them. She jumped along between the sisters as they disappeared into the mists of the woods, not even looking back. There probably wasn’t much for her to miss in that place anymore. Morgana knew how that felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some remarks on the part of the prologue where I let Uther be buried with his father, saying, of course, that Uther's father wasn't king and that Uther took over Camelot on his own. I know this. I'm just going to assume that Uther's father was a nobleman (since that's so important to Uther) and take the liberty to say that he was from Camelot.


	2. The King and the Manservant

 

_“Will you see me in the end?_   
_Or is it just a waste of time_   
_Trying to be your friend?”_

\- Keane, _Hamburg Song_

The wedding between King Arthur and Queen Guinevere had caused a celebration to rival that of the crowning a few months earlier. Some of the noblemen of the realm might have turned up their noses at a servant queen when the King wasn’t present, but the knights of Camelot adored her and the people welcomed her to the throne with cheers and tears of joy. Merlin was there too of course, smiling at the sight of his friends’ happy faces, cursing Arthur for spilling wine all over a shirt that Merlin would no doubt be told off for not being able to get clean later, and generally having a good time at the festivities. People had wondered at the speed of the wedding plans and some had asked Merlin about it. Of course, Merlin knew – from Gwen, mind you, not from Arthur, though Arthur had confirmed it – that the pair had been secretly engaged a good while before Uther’s death. Arthur’s mourning had been genuine, which was more than could be said for a lot of the members of the court, but the joy of being able to marry Gwen at last had probably made it pass quicker. The days before the wedding Arthur’s face had been shining like the sun. And a good long while after the wedding as well, but Merlin wasn’t going to say that out loud. 

It wasn’t until Arthur brought it up that Merlin thought about this marriage actually having some effect on the nature of his own employment. Arthur and Gwen were moving into the larger chambers that Uther had lived in, Gwen was getting her own maidservant (much against her own protests) and there would be other servants as well – there was no longer any need for Merlin to go fetch breakfast, lunch and dinner, or do the laundry or the cleaning, and really this should all have changed when Arthur became King, but everything had been a bit chaotic for a while ... Merlin stood still close to the doorway in Arthur’s chambers the day before the wedding as Arthur told him all these things, stopping every now and then to give instructions to the servants that were running back and forth moving his things. Merlin felt fear grip his heart for a second as he wondered if this was Arthur sacking him.

“... and then of course – _Mer_ lin, are you even listening to me!?”

“What?” Merlin shook himself. “Yes, of course!”

“ _Really?_ What was I saying then?”

“Ehm ...” Merlin was at a loss. “How you’ll be happy to get rid of me?”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day,” Arthur muttered. “No you _idiot,_ I was _saying_ , you’re not going to have to do all the dirty work anymore, which _means_ I’ll have to find new ways of torturing you, and you’ll be getting a lot more responsibility in this castle, which means your slip-ups will cause double the mess they used to, God help us.”

So suddenly Merlin learnt the difference between being the Prince’s manservant and being the King’s manservant wasn’t only a matter of titles as he’d thought. No more mucking out the stables (although he had been told by Gaius early on that that was never a manservant’s chore to start with, that was just Arthur being Arthur) and no more fixing holes in boots. He was now sitting in on important meetings, standing behind Arthur’s shoulder, reporting to him which foreign king had been seen talking to whom beforehand, discussing policies and treaties with Arthur pacing around his new chambers in the evenings (they were big and grand but seemed colder than the old ones somehow). Gwen would sit by her table and smile at him, as if they were sharing a secret, when Arthur would fume about that king or the other being unreasonable. Merlin was still the one to help Arthur with his armour, but he dressed himself now, probably because he didn’t want Gwen to see him getting dressed by someone else like a big child – or maybe Gwen dressed him, Merlin didn’t really know. He tried to avoid entering the chambers too early in the mornings or too late at night. That would just be awkward. He was still the one who served Arthur wine during feasts and banquets, and he tasted all the king’s food and drink for poison. The latter brought back bad memories, but Gaius had told him that it was a manservant’s duty simply because if someone else did it, the manservant would still have the chance to poison it later. Merlin protested the ridiculousness of the idea that he’d poison Arthur, but Gaius simply raised an eyebrow at him and said that was the way it had been for generations, regardless of any manservant’s personal relationship with their King. Merlin stopped arguing.

Gaius was ageing rapidly now, and had a new apprentice from the lower town training to take over as court physician when he couldn’t do it anymore. When it had become clear that Gaius would have to hand his profession over relatively soon, Arthur had asked Merlin if he wanted to be Gaius’ apprentice and train to become the court physician for real rather than continue on as Arthur’s manservant and hand over his room in the old man’s quarters to someone else. Merlin had felt like a traitor the day he moved his admittedly few belongings out of the room, all under Gaius’ watchful eye. But Gaius understood – Gaius _knew_. Once, Merlin had told him that he felt like he was pulled in so many directions he didn’t know where to turn. That wasn’t true anymore. He turned towards Arthur, he always turned towards Arthur, and one by one the other things that had pulled on him weakened and faded away. The Dragon had flown, Uther was gone, Gaius got his help from someone else. All that was left was Arthur. Arthur – and the Secret.

Merlin had watched the festivities at Arthur’s coronation torn between happiness and sadness. He had pictured that day so many times since he moved to Camelot. But the first couple of years, those daydreams had included getting to throw away pretences and reveal his secret. He was no longer that naive. Change had come to Camelot, but Merlin’s life went on as usual: stumbling and stuttering in front of amused knights and servants, and saving Arthur’s life when no one was looking.

It had been going on so long now, this lying and deceiving, that Merlin hardly ever thought of it as lying anymore. Rather it seemed as if there were two different realities that coexisted, two circles that overlapped, and that small place that was within both circles was Merlin. It wasn’t hard to act shocked when a sword had flown out of nowhere slaying a robber in the forest, or when a raging fire in the castle had died down for no apparent reason – it almost felt as if it had been somebody else’s doing. Merlin the Sorcerer and Merlin the Manservant were becoming two separate entities, and Merlin – Merlin the peasant boy, Merlin friend of Arthur and Gwen, Merlin son of Hunith – was shoved aside, his pains and fears too difficult to deal with. He didn’t have time to be that person now, that person who both had magic and served a king who forbade it.

The first year of Arthur’s reign passed without any great magical threats. Almost as if by magic, Merlin thought, and would have laughed, except it wasn’t really the least bit funny, it was just the truth. From his place behind the King’s right shoulder he could wipe out a lot of threats before anyone else even noticed them. Among the ones that were nevertheless noticed, there was the odd magical creature – a new griffin, among other things – but never a sorcerer or sorceress to bring up the question of the laws against the use of magic. At least Arthur wasn’t as paranoid about magic as Uther had been. It wasn’t the first explanation for everything that went wrong, the first accusing word to come out of his mouth when stressed. For this Merlin found he was deeply and unendingly grateful. It was almost enough.


	3. The Round Table

 

  
_“It’s human sign_   
_when things go wrong_   
_When the scent of her lingers_   
_in temptation strong_   
_Into the boundaries_   
_of each married man_   
_Sweet deceit comes rolling_   
_and negativity lands”_

\- Elton John, _Sacrifice_

Everything had been going so well. The new king was happy. The new queen was happy. The people of Camelot loved them both. The knights of Camelot, or, as they were rapidly becoming known after Arthur had introduced a new piece of furniture into the castle, The Knights of The Round Table, loved them both. And that, of course, was the problem.

Uther hadn’t taken kindly to Arthur’s new knights, but this time, Arthur had refused to back down. Even before Uther’s death, the first rule of Camelot was changed. Sir Elyan, Sir Gwaine, Sir Percival and Sir Lancelot were welcomed into the close brotherhood of the knights of Camelot, under Sir Leon’s watchful eye. The towering Percival was welcomed by the older knights with as much gratefulness as if he had been two knights, which, in body size, he nearly was. Gwaine’s fighting was marvelled at and imitated. But no one could match Lancelot. No one fought like him, no one had his gracefulness, his kindness and his unassuming but impeccable manners, no one was as loyal and no one was in the new King’s good graces like Lancelot. They were often seen sparring together, laughing together, or discussing pivotal country matters together. Leon told Merlin it was like seeing Arthur find a brother.

The Round Table had been set up in the council chambers. Arthur still trained with the knights, but not as often as before now that he had an entire kingdom to run. Instead, he held daily meetings around the table. Guinevere would sit at his left hand side, Merlin at his right hand side, and Sir Leon, who was now officially in charge of the knights, would be there along with Gwaine and Lancelot. Gaius had leave to join them only we he felt he had the time and energy, or when his unique knowledge was needed. The trusted old court chronicler would be there when there was call for it, which to start with was quite often, and he would throw suspicious glances at Merlin. Occasionally Elyan and Percival were there. This was Arthur’s council. These were the people he trusted more than anyone else in Camelot.

These meetings still made Merlin feel awkward. He was content leaning back, leaving the political choices to the great men around him, but every so often every single pair of eyes around the table would turn to look at him. Gwaine and Guinevere, his friends, would turn to him expecting sound, grounded advice. Gaius and Lancelot, the keepers of his secret, would turn to him expecting pre-knowledge or hidden magical solutions. And Arthur, his dear, royal prat, _King Arthur_ , would turn to him expecting ... what? Wisdom? When Arthur looked at him, none of Merlin’s answers felt adequate. His plans and ideas felt like patched-up guesswork, as often they were. Often Arthur would criticise his input mercilessly, but as often he would accept it without question, making Merlin nervously go through everything he had said with even harsher eyes than Arthur’s to see that it was sound and would not put anyone in unnecessary danger.

It was awkward, as well, to watch the silent drama of exchanged looks and glances that took place at the round table. Merlin didn’t know if anyone else noticed. The chronicler certainly didn’t, perpetually clueless as he was, but Merlin knew Gaius could see it when he wanted to, and he thought Gwaine had an eye for this kind of thing as well. It was discreet, Merlin had to give them that. The absolute loyalty and intense admiration Lancelot held for Arthur was there for everyone to see, but the love he held for Gwen was there as well if you knew what you were looking for. Lancelot would rarely look directly at Gwen, at the round table or anywhere else; it was just that when he did, he seemed to have difficulties looking away again. Once, when everyone had been very tired and Gwen had been wearing a particularly stunning white dress, Merlin had had to kick at Lancelot’s feet under the table to make him stop. That time he was sure Arthur had noticed. Lancelot was obviously bothered by the thing, trying to fight it. Merlin did not doubt Gwen was trying to fight it too. But Merlin could see she was failing. She would look at Lancelot as soon as she wasn’t looking at Arthur, she would be visibly distressed when he didn’t return her glances – and often when he did as well. Merlin didn’t think Arthur was clueless. When Gwen and Lancelot looked at each other, Arthur’s gaze would go blank, as if he was looking at something far in the distance. When the knights were discussing amongst themselves, Merlin would sometimes catch him staring at Lancelot with a forlorn expression on his face. But when Gwen looked at him, a tiny smile would pull at Arthur’s lips and there would be so much love in his eyes that Merlin’s guts would twist with the cruel certainty that this was never going to end well.


	4. Whispers behind Closed Doors

  
_“All of these words whispered in my ear_   
_Tell a story that I cannot bear to hear”_   


\- Adele, _Rumour Has It_  


Arthur and Merlin were walking through the corridors of Camelot, and Arthur was telling Merlin about the things he needed Merlin to do for him this day and Merlin was about to ask him in some witty phrasing if all that really was part of his duties (which he suspected it definitely wasn’t), when Sir Leon appeared out of the blue, looking distressed.

“Leon?” Arthur asked. “What’s the matter? Are there news?” He didn’t need to specify about what.

“No, no ... still no sight of her. My Lord, can I talk to you in confidence?”

“Of course!”

Leon looked around. “Maybe somewhere where people aren’t as likely to walk by?”

Merlin led them to an unused room nearby, and made to leave when Arthur asked him to stay. “If that’s alright with you, Sir Leon?” Leon nodded.

Merlin closed the door behind the three of them, and Leon began to speak.

“Sire, I’m not entirely sure how to say this.”

He held a gauntlet in his hand and was turning it over and over. Arthur grinned.

“You’re not going to challenge me, are you?”

“What? No, why ...” Leon looked at the gauntlet as if he hadn’t seen it before. “Oh. No, it isn’t, no, I just happened to have ... I ...” he trailed off.

“It’s alright,” said Arthur, crossing his arms and looking like he was beginning to think it really wasn’t. “Take your time.”

“Sire, I do not want you to believe that I am making any accusations, nor that this is something that is being discussed among the knights ... it concerns the Queen.”

Arthur paled. “Is she alright? Has something happened?”

“No. No, I’m sure it hasn’t. But that is the problem sire, that there are those who think it has.”

“I don’t follow you.”

Merlin did.

“I overheard one of the knights,” Leon began, “saying how fond the Queen seems to be of Sir Lancelot.”

Arthur looked at Leon. Then he looked out the window. Leon waited, starting once again to turn the gauntlet over and over.

“So?” said Arthur after a while. “She _is_ fond of him. They are good friends.”

“I believe the knight hinted at something more than that, sire.”

“I’m sure he did, but it’s not true!”

“I know, I don’t believe it to be true either, sire, but they are very ... close, and if the knights start to talk it will only be a matter of time before the people start seeing it as well.”

“I didn’t know our knights were so prone to gossip.”

“They aren’t, usually, but Sir William is really just a boy. The older knights told him off quite harshly, so I don’t think he will say anything about it again. But if it does become a rumour, it will be a serious problem, sire.”

“Why!?” Arthur was losing his temper now. “It’s a false rumour, it will die out! If the people of Camelot find it entertaining to go around spreading lies, then _that_ is a problem.”

“Sire, I say again, I do not make any accusations. And I cannot say how sorry I am to have to bring this up at all. But a queen’s infidelity is considered high treason. If the people thought that the Queen herself was betraying you ... and if you took no action, you would look either foolishly oblivious or foolishly lenient. In either case, it would make you look bad, look weak, to the people and above all to foreign powers.”

“Take action?” There was ice in the Kings voice. “You mean execute her? Or kill Lancelot?”

Leon sighed heavily. “I know you would never do that, sire. And I would not want you to. That is why I come to you now, before the problem is a fact. To implore you to keep them as far apart as possible, so that there will be nothing to talk about.”

“And you don’t think, that if I sent Lancelot away to some distant outpost or had Guinevere sit in a tower somewhere, that that would make people talk!? And how could I do that? How could I run Camelot without either of them?”

Leon was silent. Arthur leant against the wall and hid his face in his hands. Leon looked at Merlin, pleadingly. But Merlin didn’t know what to say. “You still have me” simply wouldn’t cut it anymore. Instead he said:

“Leon’s just looking out for you, Arthur. For all of you.”

Arthur stood up and glared at him. “I know that, _Mer_ lin. Thank you, Sir Leon. Your loyalty and your discretion are most appreciated.”

Leon took that as his cue to leave and said goodbye to them. Merlin closed the door behind him and looked at Arthur. The King’s gaze had lost itself in the distance again. It was going to be a long day.


	5. Secrets and Magic

  
_“And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer?_   
_What can I possibly say?"_   


\- Leonard Cohen, _Famous Blue Raincoat_  


Later that day Merlin and Arthur were alone again, Arthur looking over some reconstruction plans for the eastern wing of the castle and Merlin supposedly providing a second opinion. It wasn't really very important, so Merlin dared to bring up a more personal subject. “So,” he said, “have you thought about what Leon said?”

“I don’t _want_ to think about it Merlin,” Arthur replied without looking up from the papers. “Leave it alone.”

“But you _are_ thinking about it!” Merlin insisted. Arthur looked up.

“You never cease to amaze me, Merlin. I never knew you could read minds!”

“Very funny!”

“What do you want me to say, Merlin?” Arthur turned his hands up in defeat. “You heard my answer to Leon. There’s nothing I can do. I know that Lancelot loves Guinevere. I also know he is the most honourable man I have ever met and would never go behind my back. So it doesn't matter how much Guinevere cares for him, even if she cares more for him than for me ...”

“No!”

“... because they are both better than that.”

“You really think Gwen cares more for Lancelot than for you?”

“I told you to leave it, Merlin, didn’t I?” Arthur picked up his papers again.

“She loves you!”

“I know she does.”

Merlin watched Arthur as he bent over the plans and lists spread out on the table as if they were maps of enemy armies and not boring details about bricks and mortar. He kept quiet. After a couple of minutes Arthur looked up at him again.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Is something troubling you?”

Merlin stared wide eyed at him. This was an unexpected turn in the conversation.

“Is something troubling _me_? I’m worried about you being troubled!”

“It’s not about this. It’s ... you’ve just been ... you’ve been this way since before Leon started talking about rumours and high treason. You’re so ... quiet, these days.”

Merlin shook his head.

“I think you must have too much wax in your ears, Arthur. I talk all the time.”

“You talk more than most people, that’s for sure! I just ...” Arthur studied him for a while. “You don’t smile as often anymore,” he said quietly.

Merlin couldn’t understand why his chest suddenly tightened.

**♦**

The next day, Arthur asked Merlin to invite Lancelot for a private council. Merlin decided this meant he could invite himself as well. It usually did (even some of the times when Arthur insisted it didn’t). Even so, he did try to make his presence less obtrusive by silently cleaning and sorting through papers in a corner. When Lancelot entered the room, Merlin could see Arthur’s face light up. It only lasted for a split second.

“Lancelot.”

“Sire.”

“Please, Lancelot, in here it’s Arthur.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Sit down.”

The two sat down at the table that had been in Arthur’s old chambers. As Lancelot pulled the chair closer to the table he noticed Merlin. He nodded to him. Merlin returned the gesture with a slight smile. Arthur squirmed slightly in his seat.

“Lancelot. There’s really no good way of saying this, so I’ll just ... I’ll just say it. Leon came to me yesterday. He was worried that there might soon be rumours going around about you and Gwen.”

Lancelot stared at the King.

“Sire?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Lancelot, you know what he meant.”

Lancelot stood up. The chair screeched against the floor.

“Sire, I would swear to you on my parents’ grave that neither I nor Guinevere would ever ...”

“... do anything like that, but you don’t need to swear it because you know that I already know it. I know it, Lancelot. But you don’t need to be having an actual affair for there to be rumours. Oh, don’t look so offended, man! You’re just not very good at hiding that you love each other.”

“Sire ...”

“No,” Arthur interrupted again. He got up and walked over to the window, looking out as he continued: “Don’t try to deny it, Lancelot. Not to me. I will not have lies and secrets in my court. Look where it took my father and Morgana. Lies and secrets and magic. Spreading through the court like poison. It’s the one thing I won’t stand.”

Lancelot looked at Merlin. The pity was so clearly visible in his face that Merlin had to look down. He couldn’t understand why there was suddenly a lump in his throat and something burning under his eyelids. Arthur stood with his back to both of them, oblivious.

“I won’t have secrets between us. So I won’t say that it doesn’t kill me, the feeling that maybe one day, if I prove myself unworthy I will lose her to you. But at least I will have lost her to a good man.” Merlin could hear that the King was close to tears himself, if he wasn’t already crying. “You just need to know that if that day comes neither of you can ever return to Camelot.”

“My Lord,” said Lancelot, slowly and steadily, “It is true that I love Guinevere. But sire, I would rather tear my own heart out of my chest than ever betray you or Camelot.”

Arthur turned down his head. He wasn’t even shaking, but Merlin was sure he was crying now. The three of them standing in the room, no one able to look the others in the eye, each man miserable for his own reasons. They were so pitiful that if it wasn’t for the tears threatening to fall down his own cheeks Merlin would have laughed.

“You can go now,” Arthur said, and Lancelot left the room quietly.


	6. Out of The Woods

  
_“Tough, you think you've got the stuff_   
_You're telling me and anyone_   
_You're hard enough_

_You don't have to put up a fight_   
_You don't have to always be right_   
_Let me take some of the punches_   
_For you tonight_

_Listen to me now_   
_I need to let you know_   
_You don't have to go it alone”_

\- U2, _Sometimes You Can’t Make It on Your Own_

Two knights had been sent to investigate rumours of a band of robbers attacking travellers in the woods near the northern villages. It wasn’t considered a particularly dangerous mission – there might be a fight, but unless the band was considerably larger than reported the knights should be at a clear advantage. So when only one of them returned, bruised and bloody, it caused a real commotion. The courtyard filled up with curious civilians and concerned knights. Once in the safety of Camelot, the wounded knight lost consciousness and began to slip off the horse’s back. Sir Percival was just in time to catch him and carry him off to Gaius’ quarters. Arthur and Merlin went together to visit him.

“How is he, Gaius?” Arthur asked as soon as he burst through the doors.

“Alive,” answered Gaius, walking between his table of books and potions and his patient. “Though that is about as much as I can say, I’m afraid. He has taken a rather nasty hit to the head.”

“Do you think he will wake up soon?”

“Well, it’s hard to say when, sire, but certainly not today.”

“Dammit.” Arthur sat down. Merlin remained in the doorway, eyeing the young woman who was sat in a corner concentrating fully on a book of healing potions. It was hard to think that had been him, not so long ago. Or, he guessed it hadn’t really. He would have looked in an entirely different book.

“What do you think did this to him, Gaius? There were only supposed to be a handful of robbers out there, four, maybe five. How could they do this to a knight of Camelot?”

“From his wounds I’d almost say he’d been knocked over by a small bear. See these marks on his face? They could be marks of claws. But I guess it could have been the robbers, too, if they had some sort of large, splintered club or the like, it’s too hard to tell. I suppose they must have surprised him, if there weren’t indeed more of them than you thought.”

“Beasts or robbers. Not magic then?” said Arthur.

“There’s nothing to suggest it, sire.”

Arthur looked at the knight lying lifeless in the middle of the room.

“Sir Ewan is still out there,” he said. “He could be alive. We have to go after him as soon as possible. But if William doesn’t wake up we’ll have no idea what it is we’re facing.”

Gaius looked at Merlin. Merlin shrugged.

“We’ll just have to bring the best knights we’ve got, be prepared for anything.”

Arthur gave him a look.

“‘ _We’_ , Merlin?”

The woman looked up at them. Merlin tried to look as if nothing unusual was happening. Which it wasn’t – this was how they talked. But Merlin had become increasingly aware with every foreign delegation visiting that it wasn’t how most kings talked with their menservants.

“I’ll be going with you, of course.”

“I didn’t say _I_ was going,” Arthur said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in return.

“I know you think I’m stupid, Arthur, but I’m not _that_ stupid.”

At the sound of the Kings given name, the woman in the corner dropped her book. She immediately dived to pick it up, but managed to knock over a bucket instead, which made a real racket rolling away. “Sorry, I’m so, so sorry!” she blurted as she got up and went after it.

Arthur stood up. “Really, Gaius, you do know how to pick them, don’t you?” he said as he picked up the book and gave it to the blushing woman with a disarming smile. “There you go, Miss ...?”

“Emma, my lord,” she said, nearly whispering and turning an even brighter shade of red.

“Nice to meet you, Emma. Well Gaius, it seems we’re only in your way here. I’d tell you to do your best for him, but I already know you will.”

“Of course, sire. Goodbye Merlin.”

“See you later, Gaius.”

 

**♦**

As they walked back to where the knights had gathered, Merlin brought up an old subject.

“You really shouldn’t be doing these things you know. Riding out with the knights, risking your life. The King should stay here in Camelot.”

“It was your idea, Merlin.”

“It wasn’t an idea, it was just a fact. You shouldn’t be doing this, but you always do. Especially when we don’t know exactly what we’re facing. Sometimes ...”

When he didn’t finish the sentence Arthur turned to face him.

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes you remind me of Uther when Morgana first went missing.” Arthur grumbled and turned away. “How every single rumour would make him run and look for her. Or send you, when his health got worse. Are you still expecting her to come back?”

“Of course I am! If she’s alive, do you really think she’ll just let it rest?”

“It’s been almost two years. Maybe hearing about Uther’s death was enough for her.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t bet any money on it. The way she was ... it wasn’t the Morgana I knew. It was like she was possessed.”

Not thinking this was the time to defend magic, Merlin replied: “Maybe she was.”

“No.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t really think she was possessed by anything but rage. She was always disagreeing with him, getting angry. I just didn’t notice when it changed into hatred.”

Merlin studied Arthur for a while, but his face gave no clues to what he was thinking.

“Do you miss her?” he asked quietly.

“Sometimes.”


	7. Messages from Lost Friends

  
_“Holy water cannot help you now_   
_See I've come to burn your kingdom down_   
_And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out_   
_I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out”_   


\- Florence + The Machine, _Seven Devils_  


There was a quiet little clearing in the woods. The grass was brushed by a gentle breeze, birds were singing in the distance and the sunlight sifted down through green leaves.

It was absolute carnage. The grass glistened with blood. Merlin counted six lifeless bodies. It was hard to be sure – not all of them were in one piece anymore. The body of Sir Ewan could only be identified thanks to the chainmail and the red cape. Merlin didn’t recognise the others, but he had a guess there wouldn’t be any more complaints of robbers from this part of the woods. Although whatever had caused this was probably not preferable to a bunch of dirty highwaymen.

“Good God,” Arthur whispered. He was still seated on his horse. None of the knights had dismounted either. Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, everyone seemed frozen to the spot. “If Sir William rode away from this alive he is either much braver or much more of a coward than I have given him credit for.” A bit louder he added: “We will have to bring Sir Ewan’s body back to Camelot. Give him a knight’s burial. Check the other bodies, if these are the robbers they might still be carrying the money they’ve stolen.” Percival and Leon got off their horses and walked towards the fallen knight. Arthur dismounted and began to look around. Merlin and the others followed.

“Looks like Gaius was wrong,” Arthur said to Merlin. “It wasn’t the robbers, ‘cause I’m assuming this is them. Ewan and William couldn’t have killed all of them, and they definitely wouldn’t have done it so ... brutally. It must have been a sorcerer or some magical creature.”

“What about a normal animal? There are wolves in these parts.”

“No wolf or bear could do this, Merlin! A pack of wolves might be able to wreak this kind of carnage, but they don’t attack like that, and not during the middle of the day, _and_ , these were armed men, there would be dead wolves lying here too. What could do this, Merlin? Look at Sir Ewan’s horse!”

Merlin followed Arthur’s glance. What he saw made his stomach turn. He wouldn’t even have seen that it had once been a horse if Arthur hadn’t pointed it out.

“God, that’s disgusting!”

“You look a little pale there, Merlin,” said a voice from behind them. “You’re not going to faint on us, are you? ‘Cause I’m telling you, I’m not picking you up like some damsel in distress!”

“Glad to see you find this amusing, Gwaine” said Arthur, rolling his eyes. Merlin on the other hand swallowed his pride and actually grabbed on to Gwaine. Arthur glared at him, but Gwaine hardly seemed to notice.

“Sorry, Sire. If I’m honest, I can’t really bring myself to be upset because I can’t believe it’s real. I’ve never seen anything like this. And I’ve seen some things that have made bigger men than Merlin faint dead.”

“I was just saying the same thing.”

“Sire!” Lancelot called out and came walking towards them. Merlin quickly straightened up and let go of the arm he’d been holding on to. Gwaine smirked at him.

“What is it?” said Arthur, taking a step towards Lancelot. The knight held out a white envelope.

“It was lying on top of Sir Ewan’s body, sire. White as snow, in the middle of all this blood.”

Arthur opened it. He turned it around.

“It’s empty. Someone’s left an empty letter on a dead body in the middle of the woods? What is that, some sort of cruel joke?”

“I have no idea.”

Merlin went to stand next to Arthur.

“Can I look at it?”

“Here, look all you want. It’s just blank paper.”

Merlin reached out and took the envelope. The moment his fingers closed around it, the world went dark and his head was filled with a familiar sound.

_Hello Emrys_. The voice was darker than the last time he’d heard it, but Merlin would recognise it anywhere. _I said I wouldn’t forget you, didn’t I? I hope you like our friend’s work. We will come to see you soon._

**♦**

“Merlin!” Merlin blinked at the sunlight. “Merlin, can you hear me?” The first thing he saw was a pair of wide open blue eyes staring down at him. Arthur. And then he became aware of strong arms holding him up. Gwaine.

“Are you alright?” Gwaine asked. “I was just joking, I didn’t think you’d actually faint!"

Merlin tried to squirm out of his grip.

“I’m fine. I’m fine! Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” Arthur scoffed. “You just swooned over a little bit of blood, you girl!"

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?” Lancelot asked. Merlin looked at him. He knew the unspoken question: was it magic? Merlin nodded. When he looked around he saw that several of the other knights were looking at him. He felt a blush creep up on his cheeks. He also saw that Leon had his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, looking more concerned about the King than the fainting manservant. What was that about?

At the other end of the clearing, a couple of knights went back to turning over the corpse of one of the robbers. For a second, Merlin thought he saw something move underneath it. Then it sprang upon them. It looked like black smoke rushing through the air at first, but quickly turned more solid, taking the shape of a wolf, larger than anything Merlin had ever seen or heard of, with eyes like glowing embers. It flew through the air straight towards Arthur.

“Look out, Sire!” Lancelot yelled and ran out in front of the king drawing his sword. The wolf opened its jaws wide and dived. Merlin sprang into action. Taking the chance that everyone’s eyes would be on the creature he muttered a spell. One moment the wolf’s jaws closed around Lancelot's shoulder. The next it dissolved into smoke again. From its appearance to its disappearance, there couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.

Lancelot fell to his knees clutching his bleeding shoulder. Arthur ran up to him.

“Lancelot! Are you alright?”

Lancelot nodded. “I will be fine.”

“You’re bleeding quite bad. Here.”

Arthur pulled off his cape, gave it to Lancelot and helped him to press it against the wound. Percival joined them and helped Arthur raise Lancelot up again. Arthur turned to look at the other knights.

“What was that thing? Where did it go?”

“No idea,” said Gwaine, “but I think we know what happened to these guys.”


	8. A Hero's Welcome

  
_"And there's a memory of a window, looking through I see you_   
_Searching for something that I could never give you_   
_And there's someone who understands you more than I do_   
_A sadness I can't erase"_   


\- Third Eye Blind, _God of Wine_  


Lancelot insisted on riding his own horse back to Camelot, and did so with one arm roughly bandaged and tied _._ Arthur sent him and Elyan on ahead while the rest of them buried the robbers – they were too close to the nearest village to just leave dead bodies on the ground. But Lancelot had to ride so slowly that by the time the others had done their work, rode home and were entering the courtyard, they could see Lancelot and Elyan only just getting off their horses, with Elyan helping Lancelot down. And they could all see Queen Guinevere run out of the castle with fear in her eyes, up to Lancelot, and give him a one-sided hug to avoid the wounded arm, kissing him on the cheek and raising a hand to touch his face.

Merlin looked at Arthur. The King’s face was expressionless, cold as marble, but his hands were gripping the reins so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. The sound of the horses’ hooves on the paving startled Gwen and when she saw them she immediately let go of Lancelot and ran towards her husband without even looking back. But as Arthur jumped down to the ground and embraced her his movements were so slow and awkward, and the knights’ faces so serious, that Merlin knew the harm had already been done.

“I was so worried!” Gwen said. “Sir William told me what they had faced and then only two of you were coming back and I saw that Lancelot was hurt and for a while I thought ...”

Arthur interrupted her: “Sir William is awake? And talking?”

Gwen looked a bit taken aback. “Yes. But he’s still in Gaius’ quarters. Gaius says he should stay there for the night at the very least.”

“Then I’m going there. You should probably go with Leon and tell Sir Ewan’s parents that he’s dead. They will appreciate you being there.”

With that, Arthur turned and walked towards the castle. Gwen stood frozen to the spot. She looked up at Merlin.

“Merlin, I didn’t mean to ...”

“I know. It will be alright, Gwen. Just not right now.”

“ _Merlin!”_ Arthur bellowed from the doors.

Merlin felt his feet walk in Arthur’s direction before his mind even reacted. He turned to Gwen as he walked backwards towards Arthur. He felt like a traitor for being so short with Gwen. He also felt like a traitor for even talking to her in the first place. “Arthur’s right, you should go with Leon. Don’t worry, it will be fine.” He was saying that a lot lately. He hoped he was right. He knew that even if this situation had to come to some sort of end, the chances it would be “fine” for all parties involved were pretty slim.


	9. The Knight's Tale

  
_“And the battle's just begun_   
_There's many lost, but tell me who has won?_   
_The trench is dug within our hearts_   
_and mothers, children, brothers, sisters_   
_torn apart”_   


\- U2, _Sunday Bloody Sunday_  


When Merlin and Arthur entered Gaius’ quarters the old man was already treating Lancelot’s shoulder. The words that had been about to come out of Arthur’s mouth were stopped short and an uneasy silence fell. Gaius looked around to see who the silent visitors were.

“Sire! Merlin! I assume you’re here to see Sir William?”

“Yes.” Arthur replied. “Where is he? Can he speak to us?”

“I put him in Merlin’s old room. Emma never uses it anyway. He is weak, but he should have enough strength to talk to you for a while. I think you will find his story very interesting.”

Gaius gave Merlin a look at the end of that sentence. Arthur turned to walk towards the little door when Lancelot suddenly stood up. “Sire, if you don’t mind, I would like to hear what Sir William has to say as well.”

Arthur looked at Lancelot in silence. The seconds they stood there felt like minutes to Merlin; he could only imagine how long it must have seemed for the other two. Eventually Arthur just nodded and the three of them entered Merlin’s tiny old bedchamber to listen to the wounded knight. Arthur pulled out a stool seemingly from nowhere and silently offered it to Lancelot, before sitting himself down on the bed by Sir William’s feet and gestured for Merlin to sit down next to him. But Merlin knew how small and uncomfortable that bed was without having to make room for two more people, so he shook his head and remained standing. Arthur accepted it and turned to the knight.

“How are you, Sir William?”

“Better off than Sir Ewan, I’m afraid. Please send his family my regards. He was a good man, and I will miss him.”

“So you saw him die, then? Are you feeling well enough to tell us what happened? We could come back tomorrow, let you rest.”

“No, Sire, I will be glad to tell you now. I must confess I fear what dreams I might have if I fall asleep.”

**♦**

“We came to the part of the woods were the robbers had last been seen. It didn’t take us long to find their camp. They weren’t there, but the fire had only just been put out so we knew they were close. We walked around, leading the horses, trying to be quiet: looking for them. Then we heard someone scream. A woman. Sir Ewan was closer to where it came from, and he swung himself up in the saddle faster than I. When I caught up ... There was a road, a small one, going through the woods. It was foggy. That should have warned us – the rest of the woods hadn’t been, you see.

“The robbers were there. There were only five or six of them. They had surrounded a woman and two children. Sir Ewan rode towards them with his sword raised. I was already following him when I recognised the woman. It was the lady Morgana, Sire. I don’t think Ewan had the time to realise. The children – one of them was an older boy, almost a man. The other was a little girl. The fog was thicker around her, whirling around her dress, around her arms, like it was coming from her. And then ... Magic. I could swear it was the girl, the girl alone. The fog ... _gathered._ It shaped itself into animals, into beasts. They attacked the robbers, and us as well. Wolves, bears, lions, creatures I have never seen and creatures I don’t think any man has ever seen. Swords went through them like they were smoke, but when they reached you they were solid enough. Some of them were only arms and claws, the rest of them disappearing into smoke. Some – some were only _teeth._

“I saw one of the robbers ripped apart by a bear. I saw the, the _teeth_ tearing the arm off of ... the way the blood still ... It was too horrible to describe, Sire. Sir Ewan, he had already got too close. Something that looked like half a lion leaped at him and knocked him off his horse. What it did to him after that – I didn’t see much before I was attacked myself, but I saw enough to know he could not possibly be alive anymore.”

  
**♦**

“My horse panicked at the sight of all the creatures. I tried to rein it in, but then something attacked me, something that looked like a giant rabid dog, a dog the size of a pony. I tried to escape the teeth, but there were claws, and punches, and then something knocked me on the head. Its paws, maybe. Or another creature. I lost control and my horse fled. And I let it. I just let it run and carry me away from that place. I’m sorry.”

Arthur, who had sat entirely still during the knight’s story, spoke up.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Sir William.”

“I do. I was a coward. I might not have been able to do anything but ... I was so relieved, when I realised the horse had turned us around, that I was leaving. I didn’t even think of turning back.”

“I don’t know that I would have. Not with no one left to save.”

Merlin looked at Arthur. He sincerely doubted the truth of that. Arthur would always stay and fight, especially if something had been killing his knights. But that might not have been the most comforting thing to tell Sir William, who was now clearly struggling to stay awake, despite his previous words.

“You’ve done nothing cowardly. Have some rest.”

“‘m sorry ... so sorry ...” the wounded knight mumbled, even as his eyes were slowly drifting shut.

Lancelot looked at Arthur.

“It sounds like the thing we met was just the remains of a bigger spell,” he said.

“Yes.” Arthur looked troubled.

“And it sounds like we finally have news on Morgana,” Merlin added.

“How perceptive of you, Merlin,” Arthur remarked, but the jibing was lacking something of the usual humour and passion. In fact, it was lacking _all_ that could be called humour or passion. “She must have left the empty note too. I wonder what she meant by that.”

The King stood up. “We should probably leave him alone. I’ll go tell Leon what happened to Sir Ewan.” And with that he left.

**♦**

Merlin and Lancelot made their way down to Gaius at a calmer pace. Once the King was well out of earshot and they were all seated, Lancelot asked:

“So ... that note? What was it?”

Gaius looked at them.

“What note? Sir William didn’t mention a note.”

Merlin explained about the bright white letter left on Sir Ewan’s body.

“I touched it, and it was like it had been waiting for me. I half-fainted, and then I could hear a message being read to me, as loud and clear as if he had been standing next to me.”

“He?” Gaius asked.

“It was Mordred. I’m sure of it. It must have been him Sir William saw with Morgana.”

“Who is Mordred?” Lancelot wondered.

Gaius and Merlin first began talking at once, then quickly ran out of words all together as they tried to explain the story of the little druid boy who had turned out to be so very powerful and potentially such a threat to Arthur. Merlin didn’t tell him where he had got that last bit of information, and although he could see that Lancelot noticed the gap in the story, the knight didn’t ask.

“Mordred and Morgana together again,” Gaius mused, leaning back in his chair. “That can never be good. And now this new child. By all accounts, she must have quite the power herself.”

“Who do you think she is?” Merlin asked, feeling bothered about having a child for an enemy – again. There were few things he wouldn’t do to protect Camelot – to protect Arthur – but hurting children was really something he would rather avoid. It was the kind of thing he knew he might be able to bring himself to do, but never truly forgive himself for. After all, that was the only reason Mordred was still alive.

“I have no idea, Merlin,” Gaius said, and of course not – how could he?

“‘Our new friend’, Mordred said.” Merlin sat up straight. “He said they would come to visit! They are coming here!”

“We have to warn Arthur,” Lancelot said.

Merlin glared at him. “Really? And what do you suggest we say to him?” His hostile tone took Lancelot off guard. It rather took Merlin off guard as well, but it had been a long day: his nerves were frayed and his patience was running thin.

“Merlin ...” Gaius said, soothingly and with a hint of warning at the same time.

“Maybe it’s time you told him, Merlin,” Lancelot said, looking Merlin squarely in the eye.

“You keep saying that, Lancelot, and what do I keep telling you?”

“That it’s too late, but Merlin ...”

“Exactly! So just ... leave it alone, okay?”

In the seconds of silence that followed, Merlin remembered that Arthur had told him that a couple of times in the last few days: “Leave it alone.”

Lancelot took a deep breath and dared one more try.

“I just don’t see how you can think that you’re going to keep it from him forever. Or why. He cares about you more than ...” he trailed off. “He’ll understand, Merlin.”

“No. You heard him, Lancelot. No secrets. No magic. The only thing he will understand is that I have been lying to him for years. And then he’ll ... I don’t even know what he’ll do. It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen.” Merlin stood and began to leave. Gaius just looked at him in silence. Whatever thoughts were going through the old man’s head, they probably weren’t new ones. Lancelot’s eyes followed Merlin as well, but he didn’t move to stop him.

“Just think about it, Merlin. Try to soften his view of magic, at least, see where it leads.”

Merlin didn’t even have the strength to shake his head. He suddenly felt dead tired. His body was heavy and cold as he left Gaius’ quarters and made his way up the stairs towards his own room.


	10. King, Queen, Knight, Pawn

  
_"I met up with the king_   
_He confessed his body was burning_   
_I met up with the king_   
_His body had begun to rot_   


  
_And he said: 'Don't think less of me_   
_I'm still the same man I used to be'_   
_But no one believed him_   
_No one believed him"_   


\- First Aid Kit, _I Met Up With the King_  


A knock on the door woke Merlin from his sleep. He slowly worked himself out from under the covers and was halfway to the door when his slowly wakening mind realised that it was still dark. He opened the door just a crack and looked out. Arthur stood outside, still dressed.

“There you are!” the King said. “I thought you’d never open!” His tone was casual, but he kept shifting from foot to foot, and had his hands behind his back.

“Wha ...?” Merlin opened the door up wider with a sigh. “I was sleeping! Why aren’t you?”

“I can’t sleep. I thought you’d keep me company.” Arthur pulled out the chessboard he’d had hidden behind him. Merlin stared at him.

“Arthur ... I can’t even play chess.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” Arthur replied, and walked right by Merlin into the room. Resigning himself to not being allowed to sleep, Merlin closed the door behind him and went to light a couple of candles. Arthur put the chessboard down on the little table and pulled out the two chairs that, apart from a tiny cupboard, made up all the furniture Merlin had. The room itself was only slightly bigger than the one he’d had with Gaius, but it had its own fireplace, and with feigned moves and carefully concealed magic Merlin lit the fire as Arthur set up the chess pieces.

“It’s a great game, chess,” Arthur said as Merlin sat down. “Teaches you strategy. Thinking forward, predicting any possible move of the enemy. You’ll be white. White always begins.”

Merlin knew enough of the game to move a pawn forward. He wondered why Arthur was here, but remembered Gwen’s lips on Lancelot’s cheek earlier in the evening and decided any discussion of that kind could wait until he was a bit more awake – especially since Arthur didn’t seem eager to talk about it either. Instead he let Arthur explain the rules of the game and how the different pieces were allowed to move and tried to commit as much as possible of it to memory.

They had been playing in silence for a while, and Merlin was losing pieces but not as quickly as he’d thought, when they both moved to remove a white pawn that had been taken by the black knight. Their hands met, Arthur’s reaching down half a second later and unintentionally closing around Merlin’s. Arthur seemed to freeze up for a second. Merlin looked up, waiting for his hand to be released. Arthur looked up and met his gaze. As slowly as if he was moving through water he let go of Merlin and said:

“You won’t leave me, will you?”

For a couple of seconds Merlin was stunned by the unexpected question and the restrained emotion that echoed in the King’s voice.

“Is this about what you said to Lancelot a couple of nights ago?” he wondered.

Arthur heaved a sigh, broke their eye contact and leaned back on his chair, nearly tipping it.

“Not everything is about them, Merlin!”

“Do you really think they would run off?” Merlin pushed. Arthur looked back then, and sat up so quickly that the front legs of the chair made a loud bang as they crashed back to the floor.

“Damn it Merlin, I don’t want to talk about it!” he nearly shouted, slamming his fist on the table. The chess pieces went flying and Merlin felt the blood leaving his face. Quickly and quietly he began to collect the pieces, setting them up again as well as he could. Arthur ran a hand over his face.

“Sorry. Sorry. Yes. Maybe,” he mumbled. “It would be better than the alternative, wouldn’t it? Let’s not talk about that anymore, please. Let’s talk about how ridiculously easy it is to see through you, and how you’re about to pay for it.”

Merlin froze, holding a white bishop in midair.

“What?”

Arthur gave him a look.

“The _game_ , Merlin. You’re losing it.”

“Oh.” Merlin slowly lowered the bishop on to the board. “Well, I told you I’d never played before.”

Arthur reached out, and to Merlin’s surprise and confusion grabbed his hand again. At a complete loss, Merlin tried to will his head into working faster, but his lack of sleep was still making itself known. Arthur’s thumb gently stroked the back of his hand. Both men looked at it.

“Merlin, I ...” Arthur began. Then started again: “I ...” then stopped. Then he took a breath. “You matter to me. More than you think. I know that I don’t show it. But sometimes I think that, maybe ... I matter to you too?”

Merlin felt his heart jump in his chest. He stared at Arthur, but Arthur’s eyes were still locked on their hands.

“Of course you do! Arthur, you’re like a brother to me.”

Arthur’s thumb stilled. His face fell. Merlin felt his heart fall with it.

“I mean ...” he began. Arthur let go of his hand and the room felt colder. “I’m sorry, I know I’m just a servant, that was inappropriate, ...” Merlin continued, almost frantic. Arthur laughed.

“No, Merlin, it’s alright, it’s I who should ... I guess, I guess I just didn’t expect you to say it out loud, is all.” Arthur was smiling again. It looked like a mask, but then again, most of his smiles did these days. Arthur raised the last fallen chess piece and they kept on playing.

By the time Merlin lost the game, the candles were noticeably shorter. Arthur rose, thanked Merlin for the game and went to the door. Merlin followed him and opened the door for him. As he said goodnight, he still had the feeling that something was wrong between them, and the desire to make it right along with the tiredness muddling his mind made him dare to go for a hug. Arthur started and pushed him away, but Merlin managed to grab his arm and catch his eyes.

“I did say something wrong, didn’t I?” he asked.

Arthur put his hand on Merlin’s and gave him a tired smile.

“No, no you didn’t. You’re nothing but a perfect gentleman. Surprisingly.” It was said in a joking tone, but like the smile earlier, the joke seemed forced. “Actually you make me feel embarrassed that I’ve kept you up this long. So, I leave you to your sleep.” He removed Merlin’s hand. “Goodnight Merlin.”

Arthur walked away down the corridor, leaving his confused servant behind. Merlin began to close the door, but stopped when he noticed a guard standing in the shadows of another doorway, looking straight at Merlin. When the guard realised he had been spotted he quickly looked away. Merlin wondered if he ought to say something, but he couldn't think what, so he decided to let it be and closed the door behind him.


	11. The Blue Hour

  
_"I heard somebody call your name_   
_from underneath our willow_   
_I saw something tucked in shame_   
_underneath your pillow_   


  
_Well I've tried so hard baby_   
_but I just can't see_   
_what a woman like you_   
_is doing with me"_   


\- Bruce Springsteen, _Brilliant Disguise_  


All the way from Merlin's door to his own, the corridors and stairs had been quiet and cold. Arthur was freezing and falling asleep on his feet, but he still hesitated outside the door. Guinevere would be in there, sleeping with her dark curls spread out over the white pillows, beautiful in the moonlight, and his heart would break a little bit more at the sight of her. Or she would be awake, worried, having waited for him for hours. And then he would have to make up some story of late night strategic discussions, instead of telling her that the pain and sorrow of seeing his wife's lips on another man's cheek had, momentarily, shaken his resolve to never seek something similar – that he had almost been on his way to break _her_ heart in return. Only to be stopped by Merlin. Faithful, bumbling, never-quite-wise, always-annoyingly-right Merlin.

He looked down at his hands. He had left the chessboard on Merlin's table. Just as well, or he would have had to take it back to his own old room, where it had been lying in a chest full of his father's belongings. No one was using it anymore, not the things and not the room. Arthur looked at the door which he still thought of as his father's door. In the darkness the surface of it looked black and not quite natural, as if it was the gates to the kingdom of the dead. The superstitious part of him almost believed that the room itself was to blame for the way the relationship between its occupants had deteriorated. The Gods knew no one had been truly happy in that room for as long as Arthur could remember or had ever heard of.

He opened the door. As he had pictured, he saw Guinevere bathed in the moonlight from their window. She was breathtaking. He could hardly remember the days when she had passed him in the corridors, Lady Morgana's maidservant, without him even noticing. It seemed preposterous. Had he really been that blind? She had been there for years, this wonderful woman, beautiful, wise, humble, honest, and it had taken so long for him to see her. But as soon as he truly had, he had loved her. And, wonder of all wonders, she had loved him back. She had supported him, believed in him, told him what he needed to hear when no one else would. She had stood up for the people. She had believed that he was their champion, and because she believed it he had believed it and it had become true. She had been a loving wife and an amazing Queen. A kiss on the cheek, was that really so bad? She hadn't really changed since they first fell in love, and neither had he, not more than could be expected with the weight of the kingdom now on their shoulders. Couldn't it have lasted longer? Was a kiss on the cheek really enough to drive a wedge between the royal couple, enough to start rumours, even enough to make the King act as recklessly as his Queen? Couldn't there be a way to work this out, other than Leon's way: to send someone away, or send someone to their death?

In the pale blue light, Guinevere's skin looked even softer than he knew it was. Although she was not skin and bones like Morgana and her half-sister, in this light her arm, draped over the covers, looked so thin, so brittle. Like he could break it between his hands if he wasn't careful.

Arthur sat down on the bed, and the feel of linen under his fingers was taken as a cue for a numbing tiredness to wash over him. He felt like crying. The day unwound before his eyes in hazy imagery: The soft waves of Guinevere's hair on the pillow. The pitiable fear and concern in Merlin's eyes and the feeling of Merlin's knuckles under the pad of his thumb earlier in the evening. The silent regret in Lancelot's eyes before that, in Gaius' quarters, the speed and fearlessness with which the other man had thrown himself in harm's way to save him. Merlin collapsing in the woods. The way his eyes had rolled into his skull, the feeling in Arthur's body as if all his blood had left it. Leon's hand grabbing Arthur's shoulders. Leon, whom he had grown up with, who knew the gods knew how much – more than Arthur wanted to think about, probably. Gwaine's arms closing around Merlin's body. Merlin shamelessly holding on to Gwaine for support. And really, Gwaine was the most harmless dangerous man Arthur knew, Gwaine was a gentleman in disguise, and Arthur knew he was doing the man a disfavour by letting the blackness rise inside him at the thoughts of these memories. But Gwaine had the gift of making everything, closeness, happiness, fearlessness, _life itself_ , seem so very simple. As if no effort was needed, when for Arthur it seemed to be so very, very hard. Yes, it had definitely been a long day.

When Arthur slipped under the covers, he felt Gwen move sleepily behind him. He closed his eyes and lay still, but against his hopes he felt her move and raise herself up on one elbow, putting her other arm over his.

"Arthur?"

Arthur could see the window from where he was lying. He thought it had got brighter outside since he had left Merlin's room, but he wasn't sure.

"It's late Guinevere. Let's sleep."

She didn't move. She was probably considering whether or not she should ask him where he had been. Then she took a breath and said:

"I love you. I will always love you."

As she lay back down her arm slipped away from his body, but her hand remained on his elbow. He let his own hand cover it, as it had another, paler, larger hand just a little while ago.

"I love you too."

The need to cry had dissipated. Arthur suddenly felt calmer than he had all evening, as one single, last thought of the night ran through his head: that the funny part, and the unutterably sad part, was that they were both telling the absolute truth.


	12. Stairs and Hallways

  
_"Everybody knows that you love me, baby_   
_Everybody knows that you really do_   
_And everybody knows that you've been faithful_   
_Give or take a night or two"_   


\- Leonard Cohen, _Everybody Knows_  


From the hours before sunrise until the stroke of midnight, Camelot teemed with life as merchants, publicans, servants, staff, knights, members of court and all imaginable sorts of people all went about their business. In the citadel, apart from a few closed off wings, there was not a staircase or a hallway that was ever empty for very long.

There had always been a rumour mill among the servants of Camelot. Merlin was aware of this. He'd just never really been a part of it. There had been times, when Gwen was still Merlin's friend but not Arthur's girlfriend, when she would let him know whatever she had picked up during the week, but Gwen wasn't much of a gossip, and only learned that kind of stuff by accident. There had been others, and still were, who had a reputation for knowing everything about everyone – who knew the members of the court better than the court members knew themselves. Merlin wasn't entirely sure where they got all this information, but he imagined it had something to do with the sort of hiding behind statues and lurking around corners that he himself employed to hide his magic, or save the day, or usually both at the same time.

When the gossip was ready to be passed on, on the other hand, it was often done in broad daylight in the most public of places. That being the case, it wasn't the first time Merlin rounded a corner to find a group of servants discussing something in hushed, excited voices; and Merlin being the King's loyal manservant, it wasn't the first time he saw such a group go quiet and scatter as he approached. But when it wasn't midday yet and it had already happened three times, he was beginning to worry.

**♦**

Lancelot had been released from Gaius' care in the morning, and now that it was past midday he was on his way to the council chambers. On his healthy arm he carried books and notes, concerning any and every kind of magic that could have been used to kill Sir Ewan and the robbers, that Gaius had wanted him to bring to the round table and show to Arthur. As he came up from a flight of stairs and into a corridor the books began to slip, and he carefully tried to steady them when he bumped into someone coming out of a doorway and dropped everything.

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry!" someone called. Gwen's maidservant was standing in front of him, looking distressed, when Gwen herself came out of the door and shooed her off. "Lancelot, I'm so sorry! Elaine was just in a hurry," Gwen said as she knelt down to begin picking up the scattered pages. Lancelot painstakingly avoided looking directly at her. It had been a long time since the two of them had talked. Since his return to Camelot, Lancelot had tried to avoid ending up alone with her. Even more so since her wedding. Between his duties and hers it hadn't required much effort. They barely met beyond the meetings at the round table.

It hadn't helped.

"What is all this?" Gwen asked, holding up one of the books, and he told her about his errand with his eyes still glued to the ground. Gwen stopped and looked at him.

"Lancelot, I'm so sorry for all of this."

"Don't worry, it's just papers."

"No, I meant ... all of _this_ , this whole situation, it's just painful for everyone, and I want you to know that if I had thought just for a second that you'd come back ... I mean, you did come back, and then I knew you had come back, and I married Arthur anyway so I can't really say that, but I have to explain that ... and I'm not saying I don't love Arthur, because I do, very much, but I ..."

"He needs you," Lancelot interrupted.

"I know. I just wish ..." Gwen drew a deep breath. "I wish I wished I didn't love you."

One single paper still lay on the floor.

"One day you won't. One day we will wake up and all of this will be a memory. You and Arthur will rule Camelot better than anyone before you, and I will fight for both of you, and we will all laugh when we think back on how difficult it all seemed once."

"I hope you are right."

Lancelot looked up. He didn't realise his mistake until their eyes met. His lips moved before he could think, to create the words:

"Arthur is a lucky man."

He hurried to look away, and stretched out his arm to pick up the last paper.

"In many ways he is even luckier than he thinks," he continued, back to not meeting Gwen's eyes, "but I am sure that he knows perfectly well how lucky he is to have you. How lucky Camelot is to have you as its Queen. You are needed here."

He stood up. Gwen followed.

"Lancelot, look at me," she begged.

He could never refuse her. She took the books and papers off his arm.

"I'll take these to the table. I'll be there in a minute. You rest your arm."

Then she leant forward and kissed his cheek before disappearing back into her room. Lancelot looked at the old wooden door for a moment ( _the door to_ their _room, Arthur and Guinevere's room, the happy, beautiful royal couple, the people I love more than anything_ ) before he turned around and resumed his walk towards the round table.

A few yards further on, he stopped and listened. He could have sworn he had heard the sound of departing footsteps.

**♦**

Merlin was about to step out of the stairway into the hallway when he caught a glimpse of a group of people further ahead, talking among themselves. Determined to find out what it was this time, he whispered a spell to hear what they were saying.

" _... so I hear, anyway."_

" _The lady Morgana walking through the woods like some beggar?"_

" _It is hard to believe."_

Morgana. They were talking about Morgana. Merlin felt almost relieved.

" _I still can't understand ... those days when she was on the throne ..."_

" _... the same woman as that little girl who used to sneak into the kitchen and run around my feet ..."_

" _How could anyone commit such horrors?"_

Someone grabbed Merlin's shoulder. He almost screamed.

"Are you spying on the servants, Merlin?" Gwaine said.

"Wh... No! I'm just trying to listen to what ... to what they're saying, but I'm not spying per se, I just..."

Gwaine laughed.

"You shouldn't worry so much about what people say, Merlin. They know themselves that most of it is made up, they just like to talk about it."

"You don't understand!" Merlin hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure the people hadn't heard them. The little group had moved on and Merlin began walking again, explaining to Gwaine as he went along: "It’s not about caring what people think! Leon said that if the people start talking about Gwen and Lancelot, Arthur will be forced to take some kind of action. That can't happen! Not now, when Morgana just showed up again."

Gwaine looked at him. The smile was almost gone, just a hesitant little turn on one side of his mouth remained.

"Merlin ... people are not talking about them. They're talking about you."

Merlin stopped in his tracks. Gwaine turned around to face him with a bemused look on his face.

"Me?"

"Yes, Merlin, you."

"What ..." _Oh God let it not be the magic_. But it wasn't about the magic, was it, it was ... "Why?"

"I didn't hear all of it, but apparently they're quite curious about why The King Himself was seen leaving your bedroom at an ungodly hour. I think someone even claimed they'd seen a bit more than that."

Gwaine looked at Merlin as if waiting for a reaction, but Merlin was speechless. _The guard in the hallway. He would have looked, and what would he have seen, he would have seen ..._ He would have seen Arthur in Merlin's doorway in the middle of the night. He would have seen Merlin's almost-hug, and he might, from the right angle, have seen Merlin's hand on Arthur's arm, seen Arthur's hand close over it. And it might have looked like ... But that was ridiculous. People wouldn't believe something like that. Would they?

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back and smiled. "If you ask me these people are far too interested in the lives of royalty. They'd make molehills into entire mountain ranges just to be able to discuss the comings and goings of their Kings and Queens. Let's not be late for the meeting, shall we?"

**♦**

Gwen was just a few doors away from the council chambers when she heard the voices of two maids who were coming down the stairs to her left.

"No, he swears it was the king. But I don't know what to believe of it."

Gwen knew she should carry on, but her feet refused to move.

"I mean, in the middle of the night?" the voice carried on. "What would he be doing up there in the middle of the night?"

They were closer now and Gwen should move if she didn't want to get caught listening to the gossip of handmaidens as if she valued it. But then, she had been a handmaiden, and there had been truth in that talk a lot of the time, hadn't there?

"Don't you go all clueless and coy with me, Mia! Just 'cause he's no girl doesn't mean there's more than one thing kings ever come to th' servants' quarters for. He's been shoppin' there before, hasn't he?"

No, Gwen resolutely decided, she had never really been a handmaiden, she had been a blacksmith's daughter, and she definitely didn't value the gossip of handmaidens. She turned around the corner just before the two women came into view.

**♦**

As Arthur walked to the council chambers in the early afternoon, every person he met bowed, or curtsied, or, in the case of a couple of knights, just bowed their heads and smiled at him. They greeted him with "Your highness," or "Good day, My Lord," or "How does your majesty?" And not one more word was said to him. But behind a pillar, out of earshot, one valet leaned towards another and whispered: "She's cheating on him."


	13. Man and Beast

  
_"Here we go again_   
_We're sick like animals_   
_we play pretend_   
_You're just a cannibal_   
_And I'm afraid_   
_I won't get out alive"_

\- Neon Trees, _Animal_

Arthur sat down on his chair at the round table. It had been said that the shape of the table was to afford no man more importance than the other, but be that as it may they still had their assigned places, and Arthur, by no choice of his own, had a far more ornate and cushioned chair than anyone else. It had been standing in the council chambers, at the old rectangular tables, for generations. Arthur didn't particularly like it, but when he had suggested it should be thrown out the poor old court chronicler, already taxed by the revolutionary changes being made, had looked like he was going to have a fit, so Arthur had shown some pity and left it there.

This day he was the first person to enter the room, and he could watch the others as they came in. Leon was first, nodding to Arthur before taking his seat. Not many seconds later, Lancelot entered the room. Arthur felt his face turn into a smile despite himself. Here was a brother, if ever he'd have one. That day when they had first uncovered the round table Lancelot had said that Arthur had shown him what it is to be a knight. But from now until his deathbed, Arthur would forever claim the opposite. The cold and bitter part of his mind, the one that remembered listening to the true story of Morgana's origin being forced from his father's lips – _their_ father – on the old Kings deathbed, thought: _there's always a woman, isn't there?_ But this time the woman was his, was Guinevere, and he couldn't put himself above the conflict any more than he already had. He had accepted that there was certainly more than one person with conflicting feelings around this table. Feelings were not to be blamed, only actions. And the only action thus far committed was that innocent kiss on the cheek, yesterday. That kiss still burned in Arthur's guts. He had never considered himself the jealous kind, nor a hypocrite. How wrong he had been. All he could do now was the same that he asked of the others – to not act on it.

Lancelot told them Gaius would not make it since he had to take care of Sir William, and Leon told them of the reaction of the parents and friends of the dead Sir Ewan, and the three men had moved on to discussing the lighter subject of the progress of the knights when Gwen entered, dressed in a lavender gown and with a thin ring of silver for a crown. She gave all of them a tiny smile, left a heap of books and papers on the table and kissed Arthur chastely on the lips before sitting down on his left hand side. As she told them that the papers were from Gaius, and Arthur and Leon both began looking through them, Arthur stole glances at her. Not once when they had talked this morning had she even asked why he had been away so late last night or where he had been, and now she acted as if nothing out of the normal had happened yesterday at all. Arthur loved this about her: that calm, the gracefulness and the regal nobility that most people who were born royal could only dream of.

Percival joined them, and last of all Merlin and Gwaine came in through the doors together. Gwaine greeted them all with his usual wide smile, but Merlin, Arthur noticed, looked troubled. That was never a good sign. He didn't look at anyone as he walked up to the table and only mumbled a greeting. Arthur wondered if it was because of what they had seen in the woods yesterday, or if it had to do with his own late night visit. He hoped it wasn't the latter, that Arthur hadn't managed to make things awkward between them ( _now of all times_ ), but even more so he hoped that it wasn't anything new. They definitely had enough to worry about as it was.

Merlin began to pull out the chair on Arthur's right hand side. Arthur watched the pale white fingers close around the back of the chair, felt the faintest of twists in his guts, and cursed whatever star he'd been born under.

Since the first day they'd met (' _there's something about you, Merlin'_ ) this had happened to Arthur from time to time. Most days back then, Merlin would be his annoying manservant, or his un-asked-for advisor, or his unacknowledged friend. But every once in a while (' _I can't quite put my finger on it'_ ) a flash of that brilliant smile, or a sparkle in deep blue of those eyes, or the soft movement of those big but – occasionally – graceful hands would awaken something different in Arthur than the usual mix of fondness and exasperation. Something altogether more physical. Something like a savage little animal living in his belly, which, when woken, would pull the blood from his brain, push his heart into his throat, dry out his mouth and bite, bite hard into the base of his spine until the bone there turned into hot liquid, twisting and turning his guts in the process. It hadn't taken Arthur long to figure out what it was – he wasn't _that_ naive – but it was a desire he kept separated from everything else, good or bad, that he felt about his manservant. He had pushed it aside, kept it under the surface, and when Guinevere had come into his life that vicious little beast in his belly had gone to sleep, leaving its slowly wakening, Guinevere-orientated cousin in charge.

Arthur had been all the more surprised to discover that the original beast could still wake up now and then, usually at the most inappropriate moments. And at the most different moments. There was the day before Arthur's crowning, when Merlin had slipped on the newly polished floor in the great hall and flailed about like a hen before landing on his behind, red-faced with embarrassment, and Arthur had laughed both in mirth at the fall and in shock at the overpowering desire to sweep Merlin’s body up from the floor and into Arthur’s embrace. There was the time when Gwaine had insisted that Merlin should train with the knights and the manservant had proven to be unexpectedly skilful with a sword, which had made Arthur wonder how long it really had been since he'd been practising with Merlin on the field behind the castle, but had also sent a thrill down his spine at the sight of the intense concentration in Merlin's eyes as the dancing swords around him sparkled in the sunlight. And then of course there had been last night. Just as if there could have been a worse time than now for Arthur to let his own eyes wander; as if there could be stupider things to do than to mess up the relationship with the one person who was always there instead of returning to his wife's bed; there had been yesterday night. Something had driven him up those stairs, and then when he had grabbed Merlin's hand over the chessboard that little savage beast had woken up with a vengeance, and the feeling of soft skin and brittle bones under his own fingers, the warm pulse in Merlin's wrist, the sight of sleepy blue eyes and tousled black hair had all combined to make Arthur open his mouth and say things he had never intended to say.

Under the round table, those same pale, soft fingers that were occupying Arthur's thoughts gently grabbed his wrist. Merlin was looking at him. So was everyone else.

"Right. I don't know how many of you have heard what Sir William had to tell us ..." Arthur began, and told them the knight’s story.

**♦**

Merlin sighed at the lack of progress. The size of the heap of papers Gaius had given them had been deceptive. It appeared to be Gaius’ way of telling them: "I have no idea what that girl is or does, it could be any of these things". He had written a note saying the girl was most likely completely human, simply possessing an unusual gift for magic.

"I didn't think children could have magic," Percival said.

"Children were killed during the purge," Arthur answered, "but I don't know if they had necessarily shown any trace of magic abilities or if they were simply killed because their parents were sorcerers and it was feared they'd turn out the same."

Lancelot threw Merlin a glance. Alright. Merlin could give it a try, if only to show Lancelot what he was up against.

"They say there are people who are born with magic," he said to no one in particular. "Maybe she's one of them. Maybe she never really had a choice."

"Born with magic?" Gwaine asked, looking something between curious and incredulous. "How would you know that a baby was born with magic? Would it make food fly into its mouth, or set the cot on fire?"

Merlin looked at Gwaine. He was almost about to make a surly remark that would probably have given away a bit too much about his own infancy when Arthur interrupted.

"Even if that was so, Merlin, the fact that she's helping Morgana makes her an enemy."

"No, it makes her the _weapon_ of the enemy! A child with magic, who can make beasts appear out of nowhere when she's frightened, she would get shunned by everyone around her ..."

"And can you blame them?" Arthur asked.

"You sound like your father!" Merlin blurted out.

Arthur stared at him.

"So?"

The room went silent. Merlin shut his mouth, wishing he could put the words back in and make everyone forget about it, wishing he could tell Arthur exactly why him sounding like Uther was the worst thing that could ever happen. But Gwen rescued him.

"Merlin has a point, Arthur,” she said. “You know he does. Uther, however great a king he was, always became blind as soon as the word 'Magic' was spoken. We shouldn’t do that. If something is a threat, we’ll treat it as a threat. But don’t make Uther’s mistakes. Don’t stop using your head. Or your heart."

The room remained quiet. Uther's name had filled the room with an awkward tension. Lancelot and Percival looked a bit as if they wanted to leave. Had the conversation got too domestic for their comfort? Leon looked tired, and Gwaine looked as if he was on the edge of his seat, watching a battle: maybe watching Merlin and Arthur argue was just a game to him – or maybe it was a matter of life and death. Merlin didn't dare to guess what was going through his head.

Arthur nodded for Merlin to continue, and he took up where he'd left off:

“It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Morgana or Morgause to just pick that girl up in some village and take her with them. Sir William said she was just a little girl. You can't blame her for this.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don't, Merlin. I blame Morgana. I blame Morgause. You're right, the child is probably just a weapon to them, and no matter what her abilities are I think that if they're using a child for their own purposes it's loathsome. But she _is_ a weapon, and she has proven herself to be a highly dangerous one. I'm not happy about contemplating the killing of a child. I don't want to ask any of my knights to do that. But what if I have to?”

Merlin could tell Arthur was being perfectly honest and genuinely troubled. He nodded. He looked at Lancelot and wished he could tell him: _See? This is it. This as much as I can hope for. It has to be enough._

**♦**

“Leon?” Gwaine said. “You look as if you have something on your mind.” Arthur gratefully turned his attention to the two knights, turning his back on the sudden tension between himself and Merlin. _Right. Ignore it and maybe it will go away. That always works._

“Yes, well ...” Leon began, clearly hesitating. “I was thinking about a couple of reports I got, weeks ago. About strange animals being sighted in different parts of the woods. Red eyed animals. Didn't that thing that attacked Lancelot have red eyes?”

_That attacked_ me, Arthur thought.

"It did," Lancelot supplied.

"What are you saying," said Arthur, "that it might have been the girl conjuring animals then too? Where was this?"

“Near the white mountains, in the darkling woods, at the border of Cenred's old kingdom ... all over. I had thought it completely separate events, but now I'm thinking ... but maybe I'm making too much of it.”

“That could mean they've been practising with her,” Merlin said. Arthur didn't look at him, but the sound of Merlin's voice alone made relief flood over him. The tone told him that Merlin had moved on, that he was back to discussing the present problem and putting greater moral questions aside for the time being, and above all that he wasn't going to bear a grudge against Arthur for the rest of the day because of how he'd spoken of the girl.

“Why though?” Arthur offered. “It's obvious someone with powers like that can make a good weapon, but in what kind of attack? What are they planning?”

Everyone seemed to contemplate this. Now Arthur dared to look at Merlin again. The manservant was leaning back in his chair with a furrowed brow, creating possible scenarios in his head, no doubt, along with the other people around the table. Except Arthur, who took time once again to contemplate Merlin.

Whatever ideas that little animal in his belly had about Merlin, Arthur the man had some ideas of his own. Most of them not formulated fully, only a bunch of contradictory words that stuck to his picture of Merlin like the halo around the portrait of a saint: words like “trust”, “recklessness”, “loyalty”, “disobedience”, “simplicity”, “oddness”, “honesty”, and “ _secrets”_.

There were times when Arthur would look into Merlin's eyes and know without a doubt that the other man was keeping secrets from him. In a moment the feeling would pass, and he would curse himself – or laugh at himself – for being so ridiculous, and it would feel like waking up from a dream. But then it would happen again, some other time: he could _see_ the secret like a shadow moving behind Merlin's eyes and just like when you have a recurring dream he would suddenly remember all the other times this had happened and wonder how he could ever have questioned the reality of it. It unnerved Arthur no end. There were times, when he would see that slowly swirling shadow in the depths of Merlin's eyes, when he thought that just maybe, it didn't matter. But usually the mere idea of Merlin keeping secrets from him felt like a sword being stabbed through his stomach, and he would push the thought away as quickly as it had come. And just like every time before, he would look away, and when he looked back there was just Merlin: Merlin his idiot manservant, Merlin his wonderful friend, Merlin who never needed to be asked to stay and who could never be ordered to leave.

Once again Arthur was startled out of his thoughts when Guinevere said:

"I talked with a woman from one of the western villages a couple of days ago. She said there was an old man in her village who claimed to have seen strange knights in the forest, with rowan trees on their shields. But no one else had seen anything and there had been no traces where the man said he'd seen them, so everyone in the village had just assumed he was seeing things."

Silence.

"It doesn't have to have anything to do with this, of course, I mean, it probably hasn't ..." Guinevere trailed off.

"But maybe she can create knights," Lancelot said.

"Isn't that quite a far leap?" Percival wondered. "From beast to man?"

Arthur crumbled the paper in his hand.

“Not as far as you'd think.”


	14. Guilt and Innocence

  
_"The sky is closing in_   
_the winds are getting cold_   
_and we're not the same people now_   
_as we were before"_   


\- Marit Bergman, _Were You Ever Really Mine?_  


The meeting at the round table drew to a close as Merlin, and probably everyone else with him, contemplated the implications of what Gwen had heard. If the little girl, who remained nameless, was indeed able to conjure indestructible knights for Morgause and Morgana, then the two sorceresses might be getting ready for a second try at conquering Camelot.

Arthur threw him a glance every now and then. Merlin knew the King had meant what he'd said about magic and the little girl, and was not about to change his mind any time soon, but he also knew Arthur regretted having argued with Merlin in public. He always did, when he could tell that Merlin actually got upset. Merlin being visibly sad or angry or generally moody always managed to make Arthur confused and uncomfortable. Merlin remembered how Arthur had teased him when Freya had died, the then-prince's big blue eyes shining happily when he managed to force a smile out of Merlin. He remembered the oafish but kind-hearted attempts to cheer Merlin up by almost tipping him over, both when Balinor had died and when Gaius had been angry at him over Alice. More recently, just a few months ago Gwaine had got himself and Arthur into a fight in a tavern on the outskirts of the kingdom and Merlin had ranted at both of them for behaving so irresponsibly: the king and a knight of the round table, who were supposed to set an example, supposed to _protect_ the people, not bash their skulls in! Gwen had stood a bit to the side, agreeing with Merlin but also smiling, bemused. Gwaine hadn't been able to stop smiling, black eye and swollen lip be damned. But Arthur had been looking almost worried, pleading with Merlin to "don't be that way" and trying lines like "we're perfectly aware it was stupid Merlin, and we're sorry, but you should have seen these brutes" and "come on Merlin, what's done is done, and no one got hurt". A fine thing to say when you have your arm in a sling. Prat. Merlin almost got annoyed just thinking about it.

**♦**

When the meeting ended, Merlin headed to Gaius' quarters to talk. He was halfway there, just walking past the library, when someone startled him by grabbing his arm from behind. This was some new sport, wasn't it, 'Sneak up on Merlin and Watch Him Jump'?

It was Gwen. She looked strange. Merlin was used to always being able to read every single one of Gwen's emotions on her face. Not this time. She quickly searched the hallway for people before she spoke.

"Merlin, can I talk to you?"

"Of course," Merlin said, feeling a bit uncomfortable, though unsure why.

"I just wondered, I mean, I heard someone talking about it and, it's not that I think there's anything _going on_ , I just ..." She interrupted her own rambling. "Was Arthur in your room last night?"

Merlin stared at her. She had _heard someone talking about it_? What was that supposed to mean?

"Yes," he truthfully replied, and waited for a reaction to guide him. Gwen seemed to be doing the same, studying him closely as if he was a riddle she had to work out. Merlin felt his stomach drop. _No. Please, Gwen, tell me you'd never believe that._

"No, I mean ... yes he was there but, we were only playing chess. Talking. Only because he couldn't sleep after ... after what happened in the forest ..."

Merlin heard his own confused words as they stumbled over each other out of his mouth. It sounded like excuses. It sounded contrived. It sounded like: _"Really, Merlin, can't you come up with something better?"_ He could have bit his tongue. How was he supposed to be reassuring when the truth sounded like a lie?

Gwen looked more confused than anything.

"But you don't play chess," she said.

What was he supposed to say to that? _"No, but he taught me"_ sounded ridiculous.

"Well, I did lose. Look, Gwen. Gwaine told me that people have been ... talking." Was he really going to say this? _How do I say this?_ "And I don't know what you've heard, but you know you've been my friend longer than Arthur has, don't you? And I'm really not, you know, interested in ..."

"No!" Gwen shook her head. "No, I know! I never thought ... I just, I wanted to know where he was, and ..." She looked at him quietly for a beat. "I guess I get jealous sometimes. Of how close you two are. I know I shouldn't. I think it's great that you have each other. It's just, the last year I thought I had become the one closer to him, and now I see that didn't happen. Or maybe it's changing back. It doesn't matter really, because it's two different things. It’s stupid and selfish. Just ... you’ll tell me if there's anything I need to know, right?"

She turned and left before Merlin had a chance to answer.

**♦**

Suddenly Merlin remembered how it had ended, that day when a black-eyed Gwaine and a handicapped Arthur had been trying to defend their oafish ways. Gwaine had eventually managed to sneak out of the room unnoticed – at least by Merlin and Arthur, Gwen had probably even opened the door for him. When Merlin had marched out the same door later on, he had heard Arthur ask Gwen if she wasn't going to give him a lecture as well. She'd said "Why?" and he'd said, jokingly: "I hear, from other men, that that's what wives do best." And before Merlin had got out of earshot, Gwen had replied in the same tone: "I thought it was what Merlin does best."


	15. A Friend and a Servant

  
_“When you’re weary_   
_Feeling small_   
_When tears are in your eyes_   
_I will dry them all_   
_I’m on your side”_   


\- Simon & Garfunkel, _Bridge Over Troubled Waters_  


When Merlin arrived at the physician's quarters, Emma told him that Gaius wasn't there. When Merlin thanked her and turned to leave, she blurted out:

"There are these rumours going around, I thought you should know ..."

Merlin cringed. "Yes, I've already heard, thanks."

"Well, I think it's ridiculous, sir. And strange. Not like Marcus at all."

Merlin didn't follow. "Marcus? Who's Marcus?"

Emma turned the vial she held in her hand over and over.

"The guard who was posted in the servants' corridor. Usually doesn't speak a word of gossip to anyone. I think it's that new fiancée of his, Elaine or something. Anyway, I told those handmaids they were being silly, that they were fools not to realise that even kings have friends, and that a king who is friends with his servants is a great thing. Everyone has the right to have a friend. I think it's fantastic how the King treats you almost like an equal, if you allow me to say so, sir. But I didn't tell them about that, because I don't doubt they'd get the wrong idea from that, too."

Merlin didn't know if he wanted to cry ( _why do I feel like crying?_ ) or to hug her.

"Emma, you don't have to call me 'sir'."

She smiled.

"I know. But I think you deserve it."

Emma went back to mixing potions. Merlin walked out the door. _Elaine_ , he thought. _Why is that name familiar?_ But the thought soon was pushed aside by a happier one: _At least I know there's one friendly mind and friendly tongue in all these hallways_.


	16. A Visit from Lady Love

  
_"How's your new love?_   
_I hope he's doing fine_   
_Heard you told him_   
_that you'd love him until the end of time_   
_Now that's the same thing that you told me_   
_It seems like yesterday_   
_Ain't it funny how time just slips away?"_   


\- Willie Nelson, _Funny How Time Slips Away_  


 

Weeks came and went in silence. Nothing was heard from Morgana or her accomplices, and although there were no signs of the Camelot rumour mill closing down, the number of huddled gossips went down to normal. Occasionally the Knights of the Round Table would receive word that strange, red-eyed animals had been sighted in remote parts of the kingdom, or, more and more frequently, knights with the shield of the rowan tree. But whenever anyone was sent out to investigate, there would be no trace of the sorceresses. For weeks Merlin kept an eye on both Arthur and Gwen, but they both went about their business as usual, and Merlin had begun to feel that any crisis on that front had been averted.

Two months after the attack of the robbers and the death of Sir Ewan, a royal visit was announced. King Olaf was to come to Camelot to discuss a new trade treaty – or rather to sign it and celebrate it, since most of the deal had already been made through correspondence. Olaf was also bringing the newlywed Lady Vivian and her husband Lord Adric. Arthur seemed torn between amusement and torment at the thought. Though no one talked about it, no one would ever forget Vivian's last visit. Merlin mostly wondered who on earth would have taken the risk of courting Olaf's daughter with no other reward than, well, Olaf's daughter.

**♦**

The chess board never found its way back to the chest it had come from. Arthur made a habit of coming by Merlin's room for a game every now and then – though at more respectable hours than the first time. This day, Gwaine had unexpectedly dropped by as they were playing, and refused to leave. To Arthur's annoyance, he had lain himself down languidly on Merlin's bed as if he belonged there. To Arthur's mirth, he was watching the game and commenting on every move they made. Merlin was still losing nearly every game, and every time Gwaine said "I wouldn't do that" or "Hm, are you sure that's a good idea?" Merlin twitched on his chair and looked like he was about to explode. The whole situation surely wasn't doing his game any favours. Perhaps it was to detract attention from that, or from his growing frustration – or just to get back at Arthur who had begun to smirk a while ago and couldn't stop – that Merlin brought up the upcoming visit.

"So, your 'one true love' is returning in a couple of days, how does that feel?"

Arthur glared at him. "Merlin ..."

At the other end of the room, Gwaine was now giving them his full attention.

"What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Arthur snapped, still looking at Merlin. Merlin smiled and turned to Gwaine.

"The last time Olaf was here ..."

"It was a spell!" Arthur tried to interrupt.

"... Arthur and Lady Vivian had a love spell cast on them by King Alined to sabotage a peace treaty between the kingdoms."

"Hang on ..." Arthur said.

Gwaine raised his eyebrows. "A _love spell?_ "

"No, hang on, Alined? You never said it was Alined!"

Merlin shrugged at Arthur, giving him his best innocent blue eyes. _You really think that works on me, don't you?_

"We _couldn't_ tell you," Merlin said, "if you'd told Uther, the entire peace treaty would have collapsed."

It was fascinating how Merlin could, with his tone alone, make it sound as if it was entirely harmless and obvious and like Arthur was just really thick.

"You could have told me when they'd left, while you were telling me about the spell in the first place!"

"I tried, but you said that if I ever mentioned any of it ever again you'd put me in the stocks for a month!"

Gwaine let out a chuckle.

"Arthur my friend, you really need to learn to control your temper."

"You should talk," Arthur huffed. "It wasn't a very pleasurable experience!"

"A love spell that makes some fancy lady crazy about you? Sounds kind of nice to me."

Merlin shuddered.

"Not with _that_ lady! I spent days trying to tear the two of them away from each other, and Mr. Dollop-head here still managed to nearly get himself killed while she was just giggling in the audience!" Merlin was drawing wild patterns in the air with a white pawn while he was talking. "Silly geese," he muttered as he put the piece down.

Gwaine laughed. Arthur tried to give Merlin his best glare, but Merlin looked so huffy that he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Merlin looked at him and must have noticed, because suddenly he was smiling too. That smile – the sight of it shouldn't warm Arthur's heart as much as it did. _You insolent, heart-wrenching boy_ , Arthur thought. _But we are none of us boys any more, are we?_

Merlin made a move on the chess board and Arthur brought his eyes back to the game. Gwaine closed his eyes and leant back on the pillows with his arms behind his head.

"Poor Merlin," he said, failing to sound the least bit concerned. "Always trying in vain to keep the rest of us mortals from making asses of ourselves. So the love spell was a temporary thing, then?"

"Kind of," Arthur answered. "Yes," Merlin answered simultaneously.

They looked at each other, both confused.

"Vivian was still under the spell when she left," Arthur specified. He felt his stomach drop as he said it. "Oh gods. You don't think she's still affected by it, do you?"

Merlin shook his head. "Of course not! She got married to this Adric person, right? She loves another man, the spell breaks."

Arthur scoffed.

"Really, Merlin. Ladies in Vivian's position rarely marry out of love. Or out of their own will, at all."

Merlin seemed to cringe. Maybe he was still a naive little boy after all.

"Well, if she had still been possessed I imagine the wedding would have proved a bit difficult."

"Stubborn, was she?" Gwaine remarked from the corner.

"Very," Arthur and Merlin chorused.

"Anyway," Merlin continued, "I sincerely doubt Olaf would bring her here if she was still singing _your_ praises."

"You make it sound like that's some kind of sign of insanity!" Arthur said.

There was a strangled noise from the bed. Arthur turned.

"What are you laughing about!"

Merlin joined the laughter.

"Impertinent peasants," Arthur smiled. "Anyway, you're probably right. _About Olaf_!" he added as the laughter grew. "And if she's back to how she was before the spell, she'll probably be too humiliated by the whole thing to bring it up, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Arthur moved the black rook, said "Check mate" and removed Merlin's fallen queen.

"It's just three days anyway. How bad could it get?"


	17. And a Little Bird Sang

_"I don't know where I'm going_  
 _but I do know that I'm walking_  
 _Where? I don't know_  
 _Just away from this love affair"_  


\- Rufus Wainwright, _This Love Affair_  


It was a sunny morning the day King Olaf and his party were due to arrive. Arthur had taken the time to practise with the knights, leaving Merlin to oversee the last of the preparations alone (although it had been fun watching him, the day before, looking confused and awkward as everyone turned to him and overwhelmed him with a thousand little questions). Arthur leant back against a fence as two of the older knights practised their sword-fighting. They had both been around since Uther's time and didn't really need any advice from him, but he'd found that the king just being there raised morale among the men. Even so, he was only half paying attention to the fight when Gwaine walked up to him.

"How do you think we're doing?"

"Good! It's hard to think that it was only a couple of years ago that I despaired of Camelot's defence. The good knights were getting old, the bad knights were getting killed ... we’re not quite there yet, the youngest knights are still untried, but a few years from now, I find it hard to imagine the army that could beat us. And, of course, in single combat, there's not a knight outside these walls who could beat you or Lancelot."

"Or you," said Gwaine with a smirk.

"Or me," Arthur agreed.

Gwaine looked at the combatants for a while, whistled at a particularly vicious blow and seemed almost calculatedly off-hand when he asked:

"So, you and Merlin. How did you get so close? I don’t think either of you’ve ever told me."

Arthur's attention was brutally torn from the fight.

"What do you mean?"

Gwaine turned to look at him from under all that unruly hair, smiling a smile that Arthur still hadn't figured out exactly what it meant, other than that it was usually nothing good.

"You know, princes and menservants getting into pub-fights together ... a manservant riding out to rescue the prince, the king playing chess with his manservant ... it's not really the common way with your kind, to have that sort of relationship with the staff. And even if you're better than your father, you hardly treat every servant in this castle like an equal the way you do Merlin. One could almost believe you were friends."

Arthur shrugged.

"Merlin might not be my equal, but he _is_ my friend. I don't really know why, we just ... saved each other's lives too many times not to be, I suppose."

"Really?"

Gwaine seemed unconvinced. Arthur felt nervous, but couldn't really figure out why. He hadn't said anything overly remarkable or given anything away, had he?

"Really. Why?"

"Well, first off, why were you saving each other's lives _before_ you were friends?"

"Because it was the right thing to do! I saved Merlin because he risked his life for me, and that matters, servant or not."

"So," Gwaine pressed on, "why did he save you? Because he liked you!"

Arthur stared at him.

"No. He really didn't."

Gwaine paused, clearly surprised.

"No?"

"No. When we first met, we loathed each other. I don't know why he offered to drink poison for me. It seemed completely crazy at the time. Maybe only more so now."

**♦**

When the practice was over Arthur walked towards his room, still fully dressed in armour. He had just realised that Merlin would be too busy to be there and help him take it off, and that he would have to ask one of the spotty, incompetent little squires for help, when he heard two familiar names being spoken around the corner.

No one gossiped when the King was nearby – except possibly the nobility – but the persons around the corner seemed not to have heard the sound of his metal footfalls.

Arthur rounded the corner and saw a short, brown-haired woman talking to a young man. The man saw him first and ran away. The woman spun around and Arthur grabbed her by the arm. Big green eyes stared up at him.

"Elaine?"

"Your Highness," Gwen's maidservant answered, trying to curtsey but failing as Arthur held her up.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing, My Lord, I was just talking to ..."

Arthur shook her mercilessly.

"I don't care who he was! What was it you said to him?"

Elaine shivered. Her eyes grew even wider in fear.

"I shouldn't tell you, My Lord, I really shouldn't."

It struck Arthur that he could walk away. Whatever she had been telling her friend about his wife and his friend, he certainly didn't need to hear it. Once heard, it could not be unheard, ever again. If he walked away now, he might be a happier man. Living a lie.

"I am your King. I order you to tell me what you just said to your friend."

Elaine nodded.

"Th-th-that I'd seen Queen Guinevere go into Sir Lancelot's room a couple of weeks back, and then again yesterday, My Lord."

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. He studied the green eyes meeting his. There had to be something in them indicating a lie. There had to. As he stared at her in silence, Elaine started to shiver again. Arthur shook himself.

"You shouldn't spread lies about your Queen, Elaine," he said, sternly.

"I wasn't! Oh, I wasn't, I saw it with my own eyes!"

"You're lying!" Arthur gripped her arm strong enough to bruise.

Elaine began to cry. Tears poured down her reddening face as she pleaded:

"Please, My Lord, I'm sure it was innocent! I know I shouldn’t gossip, I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to, I was on my way to post a letter to my sister, I just ran into George, I didn't mean any harm, please don't think bad of my mistress, I could swear she's innocent, she's such a good lady, I'm so very sorry My Lord, please let me go, I really need to send my sister this letter, please My Lord, I'm all she's got!"

Arthur had felt like punching her, but her strange rambling and her tears wore down the edge of his aggression. Without a word he pushed her away. She left as fast as her feet could carry her. Arthur looked at the place where she'd disappeared from view. She had to be lying. There was no reason she'd be lying about her own mistress, was there? Putting her mistress’ position in danger meant putting her own position in danger, after all. But it had to be a lie.

Somewhere behind him, far out of sight, Arthur heard the sound of another knight making his way through the castle, the noise of the armour giving him away. He remembered that he needed to get changed in time to welcome King Olaf and, willing himself to focus on practical matters for now, he continued on his way.


	18. Fine Wine and Jealousy

_"The God of Wine is crouched down in my room_  
 _You let me down, I said it_  
 _Now I'm going down_  
 _And you're not even around_  
 _And I said: No, no, no, no, no, no, no_  
 _I can't keep it all together"_  


\- Third Eye Blind, _God of Wine_  


It was a couple of hours past midday when the court of Camelot welcomed King Olaf in the courtyard. The sun was still beating down. Merlin kept himself in the background as Arthur and Gwen walked up to their guests and greeted them. Olaf laughed and slapped Arthur's back and seemed to have forgotten – or forgiven – all about their previous conflict. Lady Vivian clung to the arm of a man with a narrow face and straw-coloured hair who was presumably her new husband Lord Adric. Her face beamed as she glanced up at him every now and then, and he returned her looks with an equally smitten expression. Merlin smiled to himself. He could sense, now that she was close, that the spell Trickler had cast was gone – the pair standing on Camelot's courtyard now was truly in love. So much for Arthur's cynical comments about arranged marriages. He filed that thought away for future gloating.

As the guests were led around Camelot, however, it became obvious that the King and Queen of Camelot did not share the trouble-free love of the visiting couple. It might not have been apparent to the outsiders – at least Merlin saw no sign that they had detected it – but to a longstanding friend of the couple it was painfully obvious. Arthur hadn't said so much as a word to Gwen since Merlin saw them step out onto the courtyard. Arthur had looked at her once or twice as she chatted to Vivian and Adric, though not with the adoring smile he usually reserved for her but with a tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows and his lips pressed tightly together. Gwen seemed oblivious at first, but as the day wore on and the festive dinner approached she began to look more and more troubled as well; she kept up a smiling facade to the guests, but every time she thought no one was looking the mirth drained away from her face like water pouring out of a leaking bucket. And all day, Merlin never got the chance to talk to either of them.

**♦**

As the royals were getting seated for dinner, Merlin ran into Gwen's maidservant, and carefully asked her if she had noticed that Gwen seemed a bit upset and if she knew why.

"Oh, yes, I noticed. King Arthur seems angry with her, I'd say that's what troubles her. Don't you think so? Though I can't understand why he'd be mad at her."

As the brunette turned to hurry on, Merlin felt like there was something he'd forgotten, something just on the tip of his tongue.

"I'm sorry," he said, "what's your name again?"

She answered him over her shoulder: "Elaine." Merlin turned, walked, and was already far from her when he remembered why that name was important.

**♦**

Food and drink was brought to the table in abundance as the first of the three dinners of the royal visit began. The third day's banquet was to be the biggest one – this evening there were only a handful of nobles present apart from the royals of each kingdom. Arthur was seated with Guinevere on his left and King Olaf on his right. Next to Olaf was Lord Adric, since he was now the heir of Olaf's kingdom, and Vivian had been seated next to Guinevere. Arthur had spent most of the afternoon talking to Olaf; about the treaty, about memories of Uther and about the growing fame of the Knights of the Round Table; but he had had time to exchange enough pleasantries with Vivian to know that there was now an unspoken agreement between them that what had happened on her last visit had never happened, and was certainly never ever to be mentioned again – as much to her relief as to his, he'd imagine. He had also exchanged a couple of words with Lord Adric and concluded that, even though he was a bit timid and perhaps not the sharpest of men, he seemed to be gifted with a kind heart and a healthy dose of common sense. With Vivian by his side he would be a worthy ally to Camelot the day Olaf, who was beginning to look worn and crooked, was no longer able to rule.

But even as Arthur distracted himself with wine, small talk to King Olaf, and these thoughts of diplomatic questions, every now and then Guinevere would catch his eye and his thoughts would stray.

She was radiant tonight. _Look at her now_ – laughing and joking with Vivian as if she had never despised the woman (of course Guinevere never despised anyone, but it had been close, he knew). She was breathtaking. She wore a dress in some kind of bluish-green colour that Arthur had never known the name of. It shimmered in the light from the chandeliers and her curls glowed like polished ebony against it. Her eyes shone and her teeth sparkled white as she laughed. Arthur cursed the cruelty of his eyes that made her seem more and more beautiful the more he suspected her.

Months earlier when he'd spoken to Lancelot about, essentially, the possibility of this very scenario, Arthur had made himself believe that he had already accepted it, that he was calmly resigned to the fact that one day he'd lose his wife to one of his best friends. Now when the moment might soon be here, he realised what an idiot he had been. Of course he wasn't going to just stay calm and let her go. Even if he might have to feign doing so to keep up appearances, inside he would still break apart.

Arthur straightened his back, turned to Olaf with a brilliant smile and cracked a joke about the recent news that King Alined had been dethroned after accusations that he had used magic to control his people – no one had ever liked the man much, and whether he had used magic or not it was widely known that he liked to profit from other people's misery. As Olaf laughed Arthur took a big swig of wine and told himself to stop being so morose. It was highly possible, of course, that Elaine was right and that whatever reasons Guinevere might have had to visit Lancelot's chambers had been entirely innocent. True, in his jealous state he found it easier to imagine all the less-than-innocent reasons she might have had, but a more coldblooded part of his head supplied him with the picture of a certain chess board: sometimes, you just needed a friend and nothing else. But then again, the chess games were only innocent because Merlin was innocent, ignorant of any other intentions Arthur might sometimes harbour, and because Arthur forced himself to keep it that way. Lancelot and Guinevere, on the other hand, were both attracted to each other, both aware that the attraction was mutual. That much had been obvious from the beginning. How difficult wouldn't it be, then, to spend time alone and not even touch? Wouldn't your skin burn for it? Wouldn't your fingers reach out in spite of you? Arthur's fingers reached for the goblet.

It was also possible, he mused as the sweet course arrived, that Elaine was lying through her teeth. But she had looked so honestly terrified of him, that to lie straight to his face must have been impossible. She would have to have been the best liar he had ever met. And surely if she had been that good a liar, she wouldn't have made him suspect her of slandering her mistress? She could have lost her position in a heartbeat. What reason could she possibly have had to lie to him? None that Arthur could fathom.

Olaf asked something about Morgana, but Arthur swiftly steered the discussion away from the subject. Thinking about Morgana hardly improved his mood. It only raised the question of why her next move was taking her so long, if she was indeed planning one. _It's either to put me on edge or lull me into false security, and of course it's guaranteed to do one of them. Father always said she was brilliant at tactics, when she could keep her head cold._ And brilliant at lying, for sure. There, despite distractions his mind was back at lies again.

_Lies_. Guinevere had never lied to him, not that he knew of, other than that time when she had tried to keep the truth about Elyan from him. But Lancelot had, he remembered now: that first time when he arrived in Camelot, with his forged seal of nobility. Arthur had defended him, on basis of his fighting skills and his apparent will to serve, but Uther had tried to remind him that there were other things that were more important. _"How can you trust a man who's lied to you?"_ That was what his father said about Lancelot, a long, long time ago. Almost as if he had known what was to come.

Lancelot was present tonight, seated at the other end of the table. Right this moment he was whispering with Merlin, who had been walking around in the background as usual. Those two always seemed to talk to each other as if they had some big secret together. The way Lancelot acted around Merlin wasn't the carefree way Gwaine had of smiling, laughing, winking and throwing an arm around his shoulder; it was more of an older brother's way of keeping an eye out, admonishing, and whispering secret advice. Arthur had noticed that at times Merlin almost avoided Lancelot, as if they had argued over something. Judging from how long this had been going on and how very exactly the pattern repeated itself, he guessed that it was the same argument over and over, but while Gwaine would talk freely and openly about his friendship with Merlin, neither Lancelot or Merlin himself would ever with a word mention this disagreement of theirs to Arthur. When he had found the opportunity to question one of them about it, they had just denied that there was anything to ask about at all.

It seemed to Arthur now that this was just one more secret being kept from him by the three people he loved the most. For years now ( _gods, it has been years already_ ) he had always tried to trust the judgement of the people around him, or to distrust his own suspicions when they hit him, but recently it was getting increasingly difficult. The image of his father came to mind, how he would twist in his seat at the very mention of magic, more easily manipulated through his suspicion of magic than even through magic itself. Maybe Arthur was now on his way to becoming a similar sight: a bitter old man, slowly rotting from the inside out from the constant fear and resentment.

A dark swirl of self-loathing worked itself up through Arthur's guts. He drowned it with another goblet of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, people are clearly reading this (or looking at it at least), but it's very quiet in the comments. Am I to take it you've all read it before, or is it just not worth commenting on yet? ^^


	19. Body, Mind, and Bleeding Heart

  
_"I went too far, yes I came to close_   
_I drove away the one that I loved the most"_   


\- The Cardigans, _Lead me into the night_  


 

Arthur was getting drunk. Properly sloshed. Every time Merlin had walked around the room, Arthur had called on some other servant to refill his goblet. Merlin didn't know if he wanted to hug him or hit him. Fortunately, Arthur didn't turn loud or rude and make a spectacle of himself – Merlin suspected that kingly dignity had become so deeply rooted in him that not even insane amounts of wine could shake it – but he turned disturbingly quiet, and by the end of the evening with the frown on his face made the other guests look away in discomfort.

When the guests had left for their chambers, more hours after the sunset than before the sunrise, Gwen tried to get Arthur to leave too, but Arthur only waved a hand at her dismissively and she seemed at a loss. She threw Merlin a glance – a quiet "take care of him" – and walked out. Merlin watched her leave before he walked up to Arthur. He looked at the empty goblet and cursed every other servant in Camelot for not having the backbone to _just leave it empty already_. Then he hoisted Arthur's arm over his shoulders, much against the man's slurred protests, and began walking them towards the royal chambers.

The hallways were empty and their footsteps echoed through them, creating a hollow sound.

"What the hell were you thinking," Merlin muttered, "getting drunk at a time like this! Why?"

"'m not drunk," Arthur slurred.

Merlin scoffed.

"Right."

Arthur hummed as if he agreed – he was apparently not sober enough for sarcasm. Then he asked:

"Why ... why did you save me Merlin? _Merrrr_ lin?"

He swayed and Merlin staggered under his weight, struggling to keep them both upright.

"I don't know exactly what you're referring to," _I've saved you more times than you can begin to imagine_ , "but I would imagine whatever I did I did it because you're my friend and I like you. Although right now I'm beginning to wonder why ..."

They regained balance. Arthur shook himself and suddenly managed to walk pretty well – as long as Merlin was there to keep him on a steady course.

"Nooo," Arthur continued. "I was a prat. Y'hated me."

"I've never hated you," Merlin promised.

It felt like the truth. Sure, he remembered that they really hadn't been friends from day one, but he could never have hated Arthur, could he?

"Y'did. N'you drank poison for me. Why'd you do that?"

_Oh. It's_ that _time we're talking about._

Merlin sighed. It was too late to have this kind of conversation.

"Maybe it was my destiny," he suggested.

"To save the prat?"

Merlin almost laughed out loud. "Yes."

Arthur didn't look as amused. He just leaned a little heavier on Merlin's shoulder and whispered: "I wish it was."

When they reached the familiar door of Arthur and Gwen's bedroom, Arthur started squirming in Merlin's grip.

"No, no ... not in there ... can't sleep in there ..."

"It's your room, Arthur! Now just let me open the door."

Arthur buried his face against Merlin's neck, as if hiding from the sight of the door, mumbling against Merlin's shoulder.

"No ... I can't _sleep_ in there, can't sleep in that bed, and I don't want to think about it, don't want to think about _them_ in there, please Merlin, I want my room, can't I just sleep in my room?"

The words sent a chill down Merlin spine. _Has it really come to that already?_ He thought about just walking in with Arthur anyway, but if the King protested he'd probably just manage to wake up Gwen. And he sounded so ... _sad?_ The words were impressively coherent, and more than Arthur had said since sunset. More than he had said to Merlin regarding his feelings since ... Merlin couldn't even remember.

"Gwen will wonder where you are," he remarked.

"I don't care. Let her." Arthur pulled to move them away from the door, but Merlin stood his ground. It was impressive – or, rather, frightening – how much weaker Arthur was when he was drunk.

"Only if you tell me what's happened."

"My wife's been sleeping with my best friend. That's what's happened."

Merlin turned them around. He would _not_ subject Gwen to a drunk, accusatory Arthur in the middle of the night. He interpreted "can't I sleep in my room" as "in my old chambers" and moved on down the hallway.

"You don't know that," he said.

"Yes I do. People've seen them."

Merlin didn't even know if he should feel sad, angry or just exasperated. There was probably no point in arguing with Arthur right now, but he couldn't help himself.

"What have they seen? The two of them talking? Smiling? Sometimes, people see things that aren't there. Trust me, I know."

"Stop defending them, Merlin!" Arthur growled, then immediately calmed down, becoming more lucid in the process. "You think I'm paranoid. Do you think I'm turning into my father? He knew, you know. Told me not to trust him. I wish he'd never been pardoned for that ... what do you call it ... that fake paper thing. We'd never have become friends, he'd never have come back ..."

Merlin swallowed. He remembered his conversation with Gaius the night Lancelot had first been knighted. _"You played God, Merlin. You set him on a path of your choosing. Tonight you brought him triumph, but who knows what the future may hold?"_

The future had come, and right now it felt like it had held nothing but trouble. They arrived at Arthur's old door. It felt strange, opening it and bringing Arthur inside. As if they had been taken back in time, to the old days when Arthur was just a prince; when destiny and responsibility, heavy as they were, were still mostly clouds on the horizon, something that concerned the future. Now it was here, for both of them, and the dark, billowing clouds advancing on them from the horizon had new names that they never would have guessed at back then: Morgause and Morgana, Guinevere and Lancelot. _I don't want this to be happening_ , Merlin thought. If only wishes were horses.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered as he closed the door behind them. Arthur looked confused. Merlin caught himself. "I'm the one who sent for him when we needed help,” he explained, “the one who asked him to come back to Camelot."

Arthur shook his head. "I wanted him here, too. I wanted the friendship of a lying, treacherous bloody backstabber." He pulled himself away and started pacing the floor, slightly unsteadily.

"Don't call him that!" Merlin protested.

"Why not? He is. They both are! Traitors, backstabbers, filthy adulterers ..."

_Stop this! Make it stop!_

"Stop it! Don't talk like that! They both worship you, and you love them. You would never talk like this if you were sober; it's just the wine making you angry!"

"Good, then I want to be drunk! I want to be angry! I want to be _allowed_ to be angry, to call them names. I want to be able to smash things, and throw stuff around me, and tear _their_ hearts to bloody pieces! With my bare hands, Merlin, I wish I could, do you hear me? I wish I'd _never_ married her! ‘They worship you’ – bollocks! They don't worship me, how could they, they're laughing behind my back! You just believe that because _you_ do."

Merlin stared at him. He bit his lip, searching for something, anything, to say, to make Arthur stop. Arthur walked up to him. This close, Merlin could smell the wine on his breath and see the red veins in his eyes.

"I don't worship you."

Arthur made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"Your protest came a bit too late, Merlin."

Merlin didn't have time to react as Arthur suddenly grabbed the sides of his face and ... and Merlin's mind went blank. He felt Arthur's lips against his own.

_He's kissing me._

Panic spread through his body like a shiver moving up his spine. _What do I do?_ Arthur wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled their bodies together. It was disconcerting how well his arm fit there. Arthur's body was warm. _Warm, enveloping and safe ..._ but there was a tongue pushing against his lips and that was not safe at all. The panic came back. _No, wrong, wrong, away, awayawayaway._ Merlin pressed his lips tightly together, denying entrance, and put his hands on Arthur's arms to shove him away and ... and then what? Knock him over the head with the help of magic? Did he dare? Even when, on rare occasions, Arthur got so drunk he could hardly stand, Merlin knew he never got very hung over, never seemed to forget things. And if he threw Arthur out – or rather ran away himself, it was Arthur's room – then what? If Arthur went and found the nearest warm body instead, that would spell disaster.

While he hesitated, Arthur's mouth moved to Merlin's neck. Merlin pushed gently at Arthur's arms, concentrating with all his might on not magically throwing Arthur across the room.

"Arthur? Arthur, this is a really, _really_ bad idea."

A warm hand slipped up under his tunic, caressing his side. The foreignness of the feeling made Merlin wonder how long it had been since anyone touched his skin other than to heal or harm it. He wasn't living in celibacy by choice, exactly. He hadn't even thought of it that much, but now he realised that the only point of reference he had to this, to whatever was happening right now, was a shy kiss shared with Freya and some embarrassing fumblings with an older village girl before he left Ealdor. It had been a lifetime since he had felt hands on his naked skin. _Never any time, was there, between saving and fooling the prat._ Arthur's fingers slid across a ticklish spot and Merlin held back a flinch.

"Please," Arthur murmured, his breath cold against the wet spots he was leaving on Merlin's neck. "Please let me have this."

**♦**

" _Arthur? Arthur, this is a really, really bad idea."_ Was that Merlin's voice speaking to him? Arthur's head felt so full of wine, and his ears so deafened by the pounding, the roaring of his blood that he didn't even know. The last remains of sense and sobriety in his mind were telling him the same thing – that this was a very bad idea indeed – but they were slowly being drowned out by the triumphant howl of that wild little animal inside that was twisting and twirling in ecstasy, in victory, now that Arthur had given in. Now that he was finally allowing himself to feel this, all of it: the soft skin under his fingers, skin that he had seen and touched in his dreams, the warmth of that body he'd so rarely even dared to look at, and the taste of salt and sunshine on Merlin's neck.

"Please." The word left his mouth like a prayer: an act of worship and a desperate plea for mercy. "Please let me have this."

**♦**

Merlin still felt like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, but the desperation in the king's voice was compelling. So was the way his own treacherous skin burned where Arthur's fingers crept over his ribs, and where Arthur's lips and tongue traced patterns on his collarbone. Merlin was getting dizzy. It felt like less and less air was getting into his lungs with each breath he took. His own words echoed in his head, over and over: _this is a very, very bad idea_.

"Arthur, please, you're drunk." His voice sounded weak and far away to his own ears. Arthur didn't even respond. Instead one of his hands slid down to Merlin's backside, and this time Merlin couldn't stop the instinct that made him flinch away and take two steps backwards. His legs moved on their own accord, trying to carry him away, but with Arthur's arm locked around him like a vice he lost his balance and stumbled. He didn't really know what happened next, but either Arthur was less drunk than he'd thought, or Merlin himself was drunker than he'd thought, or maybe the forces of the universe were conspiring against him, because before he knew it he had a mattress under his back and his drunken friend half on top of him, torso pressed against torso, a leg over his thigh. Merlin felt like his mind and body had been separated. Whatever was happening to his body, most of his mind had run away, refusing to accept it as reality, leaving only a small, confused sliver of itself to try and figure out what to do. The feeling of the warm hands that were still caressing his body anywhere they could reach told him to stay; because _oh god_ , to be wanted by Arthur, even in this way, in any way at all, it felt so good that he wanted to cry. But the feeling of the other man's erection pressed against his hip, the movements of the body pressed to his – the feeling of that made him want to run.

In the end, he didn't have to decide either way. With an almost inaudible moan, Arthur stilled. Merlin stayed motionless for a while, wondering if Arthur would now come to his senses and realise what he'd done. But the rising and falling of Arthur's chest against his, and the regular breaths that tickled against his neck told him that Arthur had fallen asleep. Something inside Merlin clenched and trembled as his mind came back to his body and he felt as if, should he open his mouth, he would start laughing hysterically. He took a deep breath. Very, very carefully he disentangled himself from Arthur, who didn't wake up. Merlin looked at the other man's face. Arthur's cheeks were flushed, and his lips were redder than usual – both from the wine and the arousal, probably. The golden hair had fallen into his face, and without thinking about it Merlin reached out and pushed it away _._ He stood up and walked around the bed, tugged a blanket free and spread it over the King's sleeping form. The thought of Gwen came to him; Arthur's queen lying alone in her bed only a couple of rooms away. _What is going on in this court?_

"Please don't leave me," Arthur murmured. Merlin looked at him. No, he was still asleep.

"Hush,” he whispered. “No one is leaving you."

He kissed Arthur's forehead and quietly left the room.


	20. In the Harsh Light of Day

_"Now you play the loving woman_  
 _I'll play the faithful man_  
 _But just don't look too close_  
 _into the palm of my hand_  


  
_We stood at the altar_   
_the gypsy swore our future was bright_   
_But come the wee, wee hours_   
_well maybe, baby, the gypsy lied"_   


\- Bruce Springsteen, _Brilliant Disguise_  


 

Arthur woke to the sound of birds singing and chirping outside. He felt warm and sticky. The sun had risen just enough to shine through his window and into his eyes. He stretched, yawned, and then fell face first back into the pillows and moaned. His first thought was: _I feel like hell. What was I bloody thinking, drinking that much?_ The second was: _It's going to be even warmer than yesterday_. And then, as if awakened by the word "yesterday", his brain stopped working under the assumption that since this was a familiar bed, it must be where he was supposed to be. He remembered that the sunlight was supposed to come from a different direction. He remembered that there was supposed to be someone beside him. Then he thought of Guinevere, and how she had looked in the candlelight during the dinner yesterday. How troubled she had looked when she had tried to coax him into going to bed, but he had refused her. His hands had wanted to reach for her, but also to push her away, and they had ended up making some strange gesture in midair. He hadn't been able to look into her eyes. _Because she cheated on me_. No, she couldn't have. Arthur tried to sit up. The sun didn't feel as warm anymore. Someone had told him that Guinevere had cheated on him. Who had told him that? He managed to push himself up. This was his old bed.

For a second Arthur stopped breathing. Guinevere had left him yesterday evening, and then out of nowhere Merlin had been there instead, pulling Arthur out of his chair to lean against that hard, warm body and look into those deep blue, unyielding eyes.

_No._

There had been someone beside him tonight. Someone who had tried to dissuade him.

_No._

Someone who had been still and unresponsive beneath him.

_No, no, no._

Arthur felt his entire body go cold. _Not this_. Dear gods, say he hadn't hurt Merlin. He remembered all of yesterday now, and he realised, with pitiless clarity, what today would bring. He had to face Olaf and his family for one more day, and put up a perfect facade for them. He had to keep everyone happy and make sure the treaty got signed. He had to go see Guinevere, now, and try and explain where he had been all night, and not let on that he suspected her of anything ( _fine mess I've made of this, acting exactly like I want her not to act_ ). And he had to face Merlin.

Arthur felt close to crying, or possibly throwing up. Every strange insult Merlin had ever thrown at him, now he deserved them. What he wouldn't give to have Merlin here now, to tell him what an idiotic prat he had been. Arthur would agree with him completely. Where was Merlin now? A cold hand gripped Arthur's heart as he imagined Merlin sneaking out of this room in the middle of the night. Had he been angry? Had he been hurt? Had Arthur driven him away now? Had he ...? The idea of Merlin leaving Camelot made Arthur’s vision turn black for a second. He scrambled out of bed, in a hurry to try and fix what could still be fixed – with his friend, with his wife, and with his diplomatic relations to boot. _Good gods, why is everything happening now?_ When he stood up he noticed the state his clothes were in. He couldn't leave the room like this. He looked around the room for something to save him, even though he knew all his clothes had been moved to the new bedchambers long ago. His eyes fell on a bundle of clothes by the door. It took a couple of seconds of surprise before he realised Merlin must have left them there. _Why have I ever called him useless?_

**♦**

Gwen turned her head, and unintentionally wrecked things for Elaine who was braiding her hair, when Arthur walked through the door. His clothes were new and clean but his face looked drawn and tired. She thought the words coming out of her mouth were quite natural:

"Where have you been?"

**♦**

Arthur froze. Guinevere was looking at him. He couldn't quite tell if she was angry or if she had just been worried. Elaine was looking him over from behind the Queen's shoulder. What could he say when she was there? If she was a gossip, what wouldn't she make of this? But then again, she might be too frightened of him since yesterday to open her big mouth.

"Arthur! Where have you been?" Guinevere repeated.

Now she was definitely angry. And as if on a given signal he could feel his own anger rising inside. How could she scold him? Which beds had she been sleeping in? And what happened to keeping his temper?

"In my old room," he replied, honestly but more curtly than intended. "Merlin took me there because he thought I was so drunk I would bother you."

She studied him. She didn't seem convinced.

"And you've been alone?"

A chill ran down Arthur's spine.

"Of course I've been alone."

Guinevere's face remained closed, her mouth pursed and her eyes unwavering. Arthur must not have been as good a liar as he thought.

Guinevere turned to her maidservant.

"Thank you Elaine, I'll manage the rest."

Elaine took the hint and quickly slipped out of the room. As she closed the door behind her Arthur caught a glimpse of her smiling. For half a second he thought she reminded him of someone.

**♦**

Gwen watched her husband watching the maidservant leave. It felt like a stab to her heart. She knew he wasn't interested in Elaine. On the contrary, it was quite obvious that he disliked her. But the look still struck a nerve with her. The image of Vivian came to mind. The memory of that visit, years ago now, when the arrogant but beautiful lady had stolen Arthur's heart away from her so quickly. Gwen knew it had been magic, back then. She also knew it wasn't Vivian this time, as blatantly in love as she was with her husband. Gwen knew all these things. But here Arthur was, lying to her, and the memory of how it had felt to hear from Morgana that he was fighting to the death over some other woman had never seemed so clear and recent as it did right now.

"Don't lie to me, Arthur. Please."

Something glowed in Arthur's eyes. His voice was cold when he spoke:

"Lie to you? I, do _I_ lie to _you_ , Guinevere?"

"Yes, you do! I don't know what the truth is, but I can see in your eyes it's not what you're telling me. If you weren't alone tonight, at least have the decency to tell me!"

**♦**

He had promised himself he would never, ever lie to Guinevere. He had promised himself that they wouldn't have this confrontation today. He had promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper.

It seemed it was a day for breaking promises. Guinevere had the nerve to stand in front of him teeming with seemingly righteous anger, and before he could stop himself he bit back.

"As you tell me that you've been sleeping with Lancelot?"

Guinevere at least had the decency to look shocked.

"What!"

"Don't deny it! You've been seen entering his room, more than once!"

He watched her blush, and felt his heart break. _That's it. This is it._

"That I've been in his room doesn't mean I've been in his bed!"

Yesterday, that might have been enough to calm him down. One hour ago it might have been enough. Later, it might be important. But right now it meant nothing. Arthur's blood was boiling, and it wasn't going to cool down just like that.

"What sort of lady would be in his room in the first place! What sort of lady would be _seen_ going in to the room of a knight that _everyone knows_ fancies her? How could you possibly be that _stupid?_!"

Guinevere stared at him.

"It seems we're both stupid then!"

She stormed past him towards the door. Arthur grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?"

She looked up at him. Arthur knew that face. It was the "I'm disappointed with you, Arthur Pendragon"-face, and in the midst of his wrath it could still make him feel ashamed.

"To talk to Merlin."

Arthur couldn't move. Not even his lips. For a moment it felt as if Guinevere could see straight through his soul and all had finally been lost. Guinevere tore herself free and continued:

"I'll ask him to make sure you don't get too much wine tonight."

She walked out the door, leaving Arthur standing immobile in the middle of their room.


	21. What Will Be Our Ever After?

  
_“Hey, please baby, come back,_   
_there'll be no more lovin' attacks_   
_and I'll be keeping it cool tonight.”_   


\- Cardigans, _For What It's Worth_  


Arthur could just hit himself. Why did he seem to be destroying everything he had been trying so hard to keep together?

He found Merlin in his room, sitting on the bed polishing a pair of boots. Arthur wasn't prepared for the punch to the gut it was to see Merlin again. If he had entertained any hope that last night would have put an end to this unfortunate attraction, it was gone now. To watch that silky black hair when he knew how it felt to run his fingers through it, to watch those lips pursed in concentration when he knew how they tasted ... _It's just this morning,_ he told himself _. It's just because it's recent. It doesn't mean it will be like this forever. It will pass._

Merlin didn't seem to have noticed that anyone had come in, and for a while Arthur just stood there, tongue-tied. He couldn't think what to say, so he said what he would have said on any day but this one.

"Should you really be doing that?"

He closed the door behind him. Merlin started, but didn't look up.

"They're my boots. It's not as if I have an idiot manservant to polish them for me."

_Ouch._

Arthur took a deep breath. _He can't be_ that _angry. He left me the clothes. He's still in Camelot. I can fix this._

"Merlin ... I'm so very sorry about ... yesterday. The way I behaved ... It was unacceptable. I cannot apologise enough."

Merlin shrugged, but he still wasn't looking.

"You were drunk, I get it. We don't have to talk about it."

Arthur wished it could be that easy. But he _had_ to talk about it, had to make sure they were alright.

"The wine is just an explanation, not an excuse. Merlin ... Merlin, look at me."

Merlin raised his eyes, but no higher than to Arthur's knees. It would have to do.

"Please forgive me, Merlin. If I hurt you ..."

"You didn't hurt me. You just convinced me I should never, ever let you get drunk."

Merlin scrubbed the boots extra hard as if it helped to emphasise his words. Was he blushing, or was he just red-faced because of the heat? Arthur had had plenty of dreams about his manservant's deep blue eyes, but he had never missed them as much as now. _Look at me. Shout at me, curse at me, just_ look _at me._

"Well, tonight I won't even empty the first goblet."

Merlin scoffed.

"I hope not! I just had to promise Gwen I'd make sure you didn't get drunk again."

Arthur swallowed.

"Guinevere was here?"

She had said she would, of course, but Arthur thought it might have been just words. Merlin nodded.

"She seemed _really_ angry with you. She asked me if I'd seen anyone with you."

He really shouldn't be frustrated that she would distrust him. Especially not when she was right to.

"What did you tell her?"

"That you'd been alone when I left you. It was only half a lie really, wasn't it."

Great. Now the havoc Arthur was wreaking around him was affecting Merlin's friendship with Guinevere, too.

"I'm sorry you had to lie to your friend," Arthur whispered.

Merlin stilled.

"Sometimes ..." he began, his eyes looking towards the floor but clearly seeing something else entirely, "sometimes lying to those you love is the best way to keep them safe."

Arthur shook his head.

"I don't believe that."

And finally, Merlin looked up at him. Eyes big and blue, mouth gaping slightly, before his face settled in a displeased frown.

"Then why don't you tell Gwen that when her husband is drunk and angry, he'll grab hold of anything with legs to get back at her?"

_What? No, wait ..._

"Or is that how you always behave when you're drunk?" Merlin continued. Arthur recognised this tone. It was that knife-sharp disapproval, harsh and brutal, that only Merlin would ever throw at him. "Because in that case I'm surprised we haven't had any illegitimate heirs running around here. Or maybe you always prefer men when you've had too much?"

"No, Merlin, no ..." _How can you possibly believe that, you beautiful idiot?_

But Merlin had never cared about Arthur's attempts to interrupt his rants.

"Why don't you tell her that, if the truth is always best?" he finished, eyes burning.

Arthur flung out his arms.

" _Because it's_ not _the truth_! I have never ... I lost control, yes, but I would never have ..." _What am I trying to say?_ "I lost control with _you_.” He ran a hand through his hair and stumbled over the words: “Because I feel this ... thing for you, sometimes, and I can't help it, but when I'm sober I can ignore it, and I _have_ ignored it, and I _will_ ignore it! Because it's not important! The only thing that is important to me is your friendship."

In the silence, Arthur could hear his heartbeat, wild and fast. Merlin was staring at him. In disbelief? In shock? In horror, or in confusion? Arthur wanted to know what was going on behind those eyes so badly.

"You _have_ my friendship."

It was the way he said it. After all that bile, these words still came out with a hint of confused surprise, as if Arthur had asked if the sky was blue or if grass was green. Arthur felt as if he had been holding his breath all morning, or as if he had been falling, falling through darkness without even knowing it. Now he was breathing again, and now he wanted to fall to his knees in front of Merlin and kiss him, but he ignored that because _it wasn't important_. What was important was that he had been falling all morning and someone had finally caught him.

Merlin pointed to the door with the polishing cloth in his hand.

"Shouldn't you be at a meeting with Olaf?"

**♦**

For the rest of the day, it was as if all the horror and anxiety Arthur had felt upon waking up had been washed away. Even when he saw Guinevere again there was only a slight pang in his heart. When they were alone for a minute he apologised for the way he had behaved that morning and the rude accusations he'd made. She seemed surprised but pleased and apologised in turn for assuming the worst about him. The fact that she had obviously been fooled by Merlin's "half-lie" made Arthur feel a bit guilty, but not so much that it kept him from walking on little clouds all the way to dinner, filled with the warmth of hope. Maybe everything would work out for the best after all.

**♦**

At the dinner, Olaf brought up Morgana again. One of the knights had told him that they were expecting an attack from her. Olaf went on to assure Arthur how he had always been in agreement with Uther about magic, and that if Arthur needed the help of Olaf's knights – "Not that you would with the knights you have here" – Olaf would only be too glad to help. Arthur thanked him, and ignored the way Olaf occasionally looked at Arthur's goblet ( _did I really make that much of an ass of myself yesterday?)_ as they delved into a discussion of the evils of magic and various murderous magical creatures that Arthur had faced. Between lines Arthur threw Guinevere glances, and smiled at her – smiles that were more often returned the longer the evening wore on. The conversation, the din around them, Guinevere's smiles – it all came together, making his life feel normal again. But now and then he caught sight of Merlin in the background and the world would stop for a moment, and he would feel the warmth of that body, the softness of that skin, as clearly as if Merlin had been in his arms, and he would be reminded that maybe there was something that would never really be the same again, friendship or not.

**♦**

When the evening came, Gwen was walking into the bedchambers side by side with her husband, and it felt almost unreal that they had been screaming at each other in this very room, this very morning. Arthur's mood had changed so drastically, she had wanted to ask if anything special had happened. She was sure it must have, but she didn't want to spoil it by prying.

When they came in, Gwen still giggling about something that Arthur had said, Elaine was making the bed.

"Elaine!" Gwen smiled. "I haven't seen you all day. Where have you been?"

Elaine smiled back, shaking a pillow lightly before putting it back.

"I'm sorry my lady. I had to visit my sister and her son, they needed my help."

Gwen stopped giggling immediately. Arthur stiffened beside her. Gwen didn't know Elaine's family – she didn't even know Elaine very well yet – but she had come to care for the girl.

"I hope they are alright?"

"Oh yes!" Elaine exclaimed, shaking another pillow. "My sister has been ill for a while, but she is much better now. By tomorrow she'll be ready to conquer the world!"

**♦**

Arthur watched Elaine leave, and then felt the Queen's warm arms sneak around his waist. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him the optimistic feeling he had been carrying around all day was just the product of temporary relief, but he hushed that voice and clung to hope like he'd cling to a lover: passionately and as if this was their last night. He kissed Guinevere like he hadn't kissed her in months and followed her to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I've got in my (and my beta reader's) editing, so the next chapter might take a week or so. Sorry about that.


	22. Bed Sheets and Sunlight

  
_“Every kind of love_   
_or at least my kind of love_   
_must be an imaginary love_   
_to start with”_   


\- Rufus Wainwright, _Imaginary Love_  


Merlin lay still, with his eyes closed, waiting for sleep to come. He had waited almost half the night. His body wanted to turn, to move, to get up and pace the floor, but he wouldn’t let it. He should be sleeping – he _would_ sleep. Any moment now, the wheels in his head would stop turning for the night. Any moment now.

He still felt the weird prickling feeling in his skin that he had felt in the morning when Arthur had come to his room, and after that, every time he had caught Arthur looking at him during the day. _"I feel this ... thing for you, sometimes, and I can't help it"_ – what was that even supposed to mean? That Arthur wanted him, wanted to touch him, wanted to share his bed? What was Merlin supposed to do with that information? He couldn't even wrap his head around it. It didn't fit with anything he had ever thought about Arthur, and certainly nothing he had ever thought about Arthur and himself. And it didn't fit with the fact that Arthur was married to Gwen, in love with Gwen, devoted to Gwen – that wasn't an act, Merlin had been there since it began and he knew it was true. And now he knew how it felt to have Arthur's breath tickling against his neck, how it could send a shiver down his spine to hear his name whispered in reverence (and wasn't that what he had always wanted, after a fashion?), and all the things he used to know and the things he knew now didn't fit together in the worldview he had, so his worldview had to grow. _It's no wonder it's hard to sleep when your world is changing around you._ Never mind that the bed felt cold, never mind that his body was playing tricks on him, telling him that maybe that which had seemed frightening, wrong and, quite honestly, a little bit gross last night might be worth a second try after all. _So what if the sloppy kisses were uncomfortable? Wouldn't it be worth getting used to, if it means I get to lie in Arthur's arms where it is warm and feels like home? Gods, am I going completely insane?_ Merlin pulled the blankets tighter around him. You weren't supposed to do too much thinking this time of night. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't as if you'd look at it the same way when the sun came around anyway.

**♦**

_The sun was streaming through the window. It made the sheets of their bed feel warm. It made Merlin's ruffled hair shine and his skin glow. Arthur ran his fingers over Merlin's cheek, down to his mouth. Merlin smiled. Tiny, tiny crow's feet appeared at his eyes. Had those been there before? Were they getting old already? Arthur let his fingers start over, slowly, flickering lightly over Merlin's temple, over those lines on his face. They suited him. They let his wisdom show on the outside._

" _What are you thinking?"_

_Merlin's voice seemed to be speaking from inside his own head, deep and with a hint of mirth. It made Arthur shiver. His hand traced a lazy path down Merlin´s neck, over a pale shoulder, down a chest speckled with soft, black hairs. Arthur felt his own chest contract, heat spreading through his body like wildfire._

" _That I love you."_

_Merlin's smile grew, bright, unclouded –_ like the sun _, Arthur thought. Merlin reached out his own hand, cupping Arthur's cheek (Arthur's bearded cheek, and there was something wrong with that, but Arthur couldn't remember what it was). Merlin pulled them together, kissed him, kissed him, kissed him, and Arthur felt as if the sunlight was shining straight through his body, right into his heart._

**♦**

The sun was streaming through the window. Arthur woke up. The bed sheets were warm, and when he turned around he still expected to find Merlin there. It wasn't until he saw Guinevere's sleeping form that he realised he had been dreaming. It had felt so real _. It felt so right_. Like it had felt the first year he and Guinevere had shared this bed, but deeper, without the dark clouds looming on the horizon.

Distractedly he reached out, carefully hugged his wife, and kissed her hair. It wasn't the same as yesterday. Just as he'd thought, that endless, happy hopefulness he'd felt was gone. In its place was nothing but relief – relief that his mistake didn't seem to have made things worse than they already were, relief that Guinevere still wanted to share this bed with him, relief that Merlin had forgiven him so easily.

Once again he remembered Elaine's accusations against Guinevere. He wondered if it could be true, that this woman sleeping in his arms had been cheating on him with his first knight. For so long he had thought of her as the measure of all things good and right and noble. But it wasn't fair, was it, to expect her to be any more or less moral than he was himself? His eyes had strayed, his hands had strayed, his heart had strayed. If she had strayed, too, who was he to judge? If she had, there were certainly men much less worthy of her love than Lancelot. _I only know one man who is better_.

Arthur shook himself. He had thought all of these thoughts before, and now his mind had begun to run in circles. The only thing that had changed was that he didn't feel as angry at Guinevere anymore. He remembered the way he had lashed out at her the previous morning – it had been unfair. He could just as well have been talking about himself – maybe he had been. Maybe the anger had just been guilt in disguise.

So he was back at square one again. Were they ever going to get out of this?

He shook Guinevere softly and kissed her temple.

"Come on. Time to face the day."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Real life and computer issues.


	23. Old Friends Come to Call

 

_“The sky is closing in_  
 _the winds are getting cold_  
 _and we're not the same people now_  
 _as we were before”_

\- Marit Bergman, _Were You Ever Really Mine_

On the third day of King Olaf's visit, the trade treaty was signed with great pomp and circumstance. The great hall was full of people from both the courts: knights, nobles and servants, dressed to the teeth and all looking exceptionally pleased, as if the treaty had been a joint effort from all of them.

Halfway through the ceremony, Merlin had begun to feel uneasy, without really knowing why. A tingling sensation that he couldn't get rid of started at the back of his neck, and it unnerved him. By the time the ceremony was drawing to a close, the feeling had grown stronger and he could only draw one conclusion: somewhere nearby, someone was using very powerful magic.

Merlin let his eyes wander around the hall, searching every face in the room, but he couldn't see anything. Neither had he expected to – it felt further off. He wondered if he could sneak out to have a look around the castle, but he would have to walk through the entire hall so his disappearance would probably not go unnoticed. He couldn't just leave either. Arthur was seated at the centre of the high table next to Olaf, smiling and flipping through the document, shaking hands with Olaf's advisers. _If this is it, if this is the attack we have been waiting for, then my place is here, by Arthur's side, isn't it?_ Not entirely true, of course. He couldn't actually do anything if he was next to Arthur. If he left now, he might be able to stop Morgana, or whoever it was, before they even arrived at the great hall – _maybe she's not even in Camelot yet, I could be sensing her far off, especially if it's all of them_ – and no one would have to know how close it had been. He looked at Arthur again, and firmly ignored the way his face heated when he did. Yes, he should definitely try to leave. But his feet didn't move.

 

**♦**

A while later, the diplomacy had been dealt with and the meeting was to be turned into a banquet. Merlin was told to personally go and lock the treaty away. It was supposed to be put in a special cupboard in the library that only the King had access to – or, rather, only Merlin, since Arthur had "lent him" the keys a year ago and not accepted them back – but Merlin was feeling more restless and worried than ever and didn't feel he had the time to go all the way to the library. Instead he ran off to his own room, put the document in his own cupboard, whispered a concealing spell, and meant to go straight back to the great hall.

He was stopped at his own door. It wouldn't open. Confused, he tried the handle a couple of times. _But I just walked through it,_ he thought. He tried shoving his entire (admittedly not very impressive) weight against it, but it wouldn't budge. Then he shrugged his shoulders and incanted a spell.

Nothing happened.

 

**♦**

The last of the food and drink had just been carried out to the tables in the great hall. Arthur took one last look around for Merlin. He should have returned from the library by now, but the man was nowhere to be found. It shouldn't worry Arthur – the servant body was busy today, moving to and from the hall all the time, and Merlin had always had a habit of disappearing to help someone else – but it _did_ worry him. He had a bad feeling that went through every limb in his body and all the way in to his bones, the way you can feel it when a thunderstorm approaches, or how you feel when the earth trembles, and it felt absolutely integral that Merlin should be there.

Not showing the slightest glimpse of his discomfort to the people around him, the King rose to welcome all his guests to this next part of the celebrations. Everyone went silent. Smiling faces were turned towards him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests, Your Highness ..."

He nodded towards Olaf who raised his glass in response, but before he could continue Arthur was interrupted by a chorus of clanging metallic noises outside. People in the hall began to turn in their seats, looking at each other as if their neighbour might be able to offer an explanation. The guards who had been standing along the walls took a couple of steps forward, looking towards the doors and their hands went to the swords. So did Arthur's, automatically, and he cursed when he remembered that of course he didn't have one at a diplomatic dinner. As the noise grew louder and nearer, the knights who were wearing civilian clothes showed signs of the same mixture of distress and irritation. The knights who were standing among the guards were all attention. Leon, their commander, looked at Arthur, but Arthur could offer little advice right now. Sir William, at the other end of the hall, reached for the doors. Before he had touched them, they flew open.

The next second, every armed man in the room was thrown to the walls. Swords and knives were torn out of hands and hilts as if they had a life of their own and floated up into the air, just out of reach. Morgana stood in the doorway, wearing a red dress and a viciously pleased smile that Arthur remembered from her last months in Camelot; a smile he had never seen in their childhood. By her side stood a young man who, Arthur realised, was Mordred. The once sweet little boy was now almost as tall as Morgana, his face narrower, colder, harder – a face cut in stone. He wasn't smiling. It was hard to even imagine a smile on that face.

"My darling brother!" Morgana exclaimed. It nearly echoed in the now deadly quiet room. "What a party you have here! And I wasn't invited? I'm hurt."

Arthur met her eyes with an unwavering glare.

"Morgana," he said, voice even and composed.

"Arthur," she said in return, with a mockery of a curtsey.

 

**♦**

Magic had blocked the door. It had to be. And yet, magic seemed unable to make it open again. Merlin tried every spell he could think of, while he attempted to fight off the déjà-vu feeling from when the troll had locked him in. The panic, the terror, the hopelessness, and the stench that had felt like some kind of living entity eating away at his sanity. He took a deep breath.

_This is my room, not a stinking cellar, and this is_ my _door._

With a shout he launched another bout of magic at the door – no spell this time, no incantation, just pure power. The hinges creaked. And then, like a dying animal, the door fell.

Merlin ran out into the hallway, rounded a corner, and ran straight into Elaine. The maidservant looked terrified. She was shaking, and her face was streaked with tears.

"Oh, please sir, you have to help! Someone has to help! It's, it's ..."

Merlin grabbed her arms and tried to make her look at him.

"Calm down, Elaine. Take a deep breath. What is it?"

He already knew it was bad. After all, he had been having a bad feeling about this the whole evening.

"It's, it's the Lady Morgana, sir. She just ... _cracked_ open the doors, and, and, all the guards just ... I ran as fast as I could, sir ..."

Merlin didn't wait for her to finish before running as fast as he could the way she had come. As he was flying down the stairs two steps at a time he thought of what he knew about Elaine – namely nothing except that she was purposefully spreading destructive rumours about royalty – and wondered for a second if this was a trap. If maybe Elaine was even more dubious than she seemed and Morgana was preparing to tear down Camelot in some entirely different part of the castle.

_But the great hall is where Arthur is_. If it was a trap, Merlin didn't care.

 

**♦**

Lancelot slowly rose from his chair and moved towards the centre of the room to join Arthur and Gwen. For every step he took, he kept an eye on Morgana and the boy, who were also walking towards the King. Behind them, some of the guests panicked and tried to leave, but the doors had closed and would no longer open. Lancelot could hear stifled sobs coming from that part of the room. Every sound made seemed to echo in the hall, as if there was a great, pressing silence underlining it all.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked. Lancelot couldn't help but admire the calm that Arthur seemed to possess in a situation like this. That he could sound as if he was in control when someone had walked into the heart of his castle and disarmed all his men. But Arthur stood as still as a statue in the middle of the room, calm and unyielding.

"My sister still suffers from the wounds she got the day we left Camelot," Morgana replied with a voice like ice. "She was nearly taken from me that day, Arthur, and I haven't forgotten."

Then she smiled again. The smile was more unnerving than all her frowns combined.

"And here I am, brother, to strike at _your_ heart!"

Lancelot swiftly stepped in front of Gwen, pulling her behind him. Morgana laughed.

"Don't worry, Lancelot, Her Highness the Maidservant is not the target this time."

At first, he didn't understand what she could mean by that, but as he looked for the one person he knew could help right now, a fear grew inside him. _But why would she be targeting_ him?

 

**♦**

Merlin's fear that this might be a trap – or at least that it might be a trap for him alone – disappeared when he saw the lifeless bodies of guards forming a trail towards the great hall. He saw the doors up ahead and sprinted, heart in his throat and his mind chanting a prayer:

_Please let him live._

_Please let him live._

_Please let him live._

 

**♦**

"Arthur," Lancelot said, trying to sound calm and disinterested enough not to give anything away. "Where's Merlin?"

Morgana, who had stopped only a couple yards away from them, raised an eyebrow. Arthur didn't even turn to look at him, but Lancelot saw his fists clench.

"Well away from here I hope!" the King muttered.

Morgana shook her head.

"Oh, my poor brother. Your knight is privy to more of your loved ones' secrets than you are!"

Arthur's hands twitched again. Lancelot looked longingly at one of the swords hovering above him.

"Let my guests leave, Morgana."

Morgana acted as if she hadn't heard Arthur's words. Instead she turned towards the boy she had brought with her and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Mordred here tells me the most interesting stories," she said, and looked at Arthur. "Of a great wizard that the druids call Emrys. A man who can make castles crumble and make _dragons_ obey his every word. The most powerful sorcerer in centuries, with the fate of Albion in his hands."

Lancelot grabbed Gwen's hand without thinking. _Oh dear gods, no. Merlin._

Arthur looked straight at Morgana, his face a mask of stone.

"And you hope to make this wizard work for you?" he asked.

Morgana laughed. The boy smiled. The sight sent a chill down Lancelot's spine.

"Oh no, Arthur. He works for you!"

 

**♦**

There came a loud screech from the hinges as the doors flew open. Merlin ran into the room, panting. His eyes went straight to the crimson figure of Morgana, standing in the middle of the hall and looking as if she ruled it once more.

"Hello Merlin," she said with a voice sweeter than honey. "We were just talking about you."

The doors slammed shut behind him, and as the noise was added to the pounding in his head it made the world swim before his eyes.

_Damn._

_Trap._


	24. The Witch and the Wizard

  
_“I feel overwhelmed by this surprise_   
_I'm gonna win a prize tonight if I don't cry_   
_Now that you've recognized there's a problem_   
_It's about to get worse_   
_It's about to get worse”_   


\- I Blame Coco, _It's About to Get Worse_  


Arthur didn't understand. He wasn't stupid, he could see what Morgana was implying, what it was she wanted him to think. But he didn't understand _why_. She had obviously made some elaborate plan to get into Camelot (and he would give a whole lot to know how she had done that), only to spin some tale to Arthur to discredit his _manservant_? What did she expect to get out of that? She knew Arthur was close to Merlin, of course, but would she really go through all that trouble just to mess with Arthur's head for a while? It didn't make sense. She couldn't expect him to believe it was true, could she? Come on. They had been over this already. And if she really wanted him to believe that _Merlin_ was a _sorcerer_ , she was hardly helping her case by making him out to be such a powerful one, was she?

_Everyone is in here, though. Everyone is hearing this. Maybe it's not me she's trying to fool. Maybe she's trying to make the nobles and the knights nervous. Destabilize the court._

She could certainly succeed in doing that. Arthur knew that underneath the bravery and self-discipline, many of the knights were utterly terrified of all things magic. It wasn't strange, considering how many times most of them had almost been killed by it. And those who weren't as scared still remembered lost friends. If Morgana turned the knights against Merlin, things could easily get out of Arthur's control. He'd have to send Merlin away, for his own protection.

The thought alone made it hard to breathe. "I am here to strike at your heart," she'd said. Great. Even Morgana knew.

And Merlin, the oaf, wasn't making it any better. He just stood there, gaping at her.

**♦**

"What?" Merlin said, but something inside him already knew what this was about, and it made his blood run cold.

"I was just telling Arthur what an impressive reputation you have among the druids," Morgana said. "Did you know that they actually predicted your birth?"

She sounded so happy that it hurt. Merlin knew it was faked happiness, but he couldn't help thinking that it could have been real – if he had just told her himself, if he hadn't sent her off to the druids only to witness a massacre.

"... Months before you were born every single crystal in the crystal cave was showing it, day after day. You have been to the crystal cave, haven't you, Merlin?"

Merlin had to clench his fists and run his nails into his palms until it hurt to keep himself from throwing worried glances at Arthur and give himself away. Did Morgana _know_ he was a sorcerer, or was she just guessing? By now, she'd surely have enough clues to make the guess, and to call it an educated guess at that, but could she prove it? Was it time to confess before she confessed for him, or was that exactly what she was hoping he would do?

Merlin opened his mouth and out came that which after all these years had become second nature to him: the lies.

"I ... I don't understand. Is this some kind of joke? How did you get here?"

_We walked in through the gates, Emrys_. Mordred's voice echoed in his head, and the young man stepped out from behind Morgana.

_Oh, great,_ Merlin thought. _I just keep making it worse._

**♦**

Merlin looked so adorably dumbfounded, Arthur felt like swatting his head and kissing him at the same time. He took a deep, relieved breath. It wasn't true _. Of course it's not true. I never believed it was._

" _Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he's so_ stupid. _There's_ no way _he's a sorcerer."_ Yes, he remembered. Not even when Merlin himself had claimed to be sorcerer had anyone been able to believe it. Nothing had changed since then, had it?

Except that Morgana was laughing.

"A joke, Merlin? I have to admit, I thought it was. But then it all started to make sense. All those times when it seemed fate itself was conspiring against me."

While Morgana seemed to have her full attention on Merlin, Arthur saw Leon charge out from the crowd and throw himself at Morgana. Arthur didn't have time to open his mouth, much less to order him to stop. He could only watch as Morgana turned and with a single glance hurled his friend and brother-in-arms into the banquet table, and nearly a dozen of the swords that had been floating about under the ceiling came flying after him.

"No!"

The swords halted inches away from Leon. Morgana turned to face Merlin again, still smiling – always smiling.

"Leave him alone," Merlin pleaded.

"Oh, Merlin. Do you really have to ask? Just send the swords away. It would be nothing to you, would it? Just a flick of the wrist. _Like breathing_."

Arthur shivered. She persisted. Why did she persist? Merlin shook his head.

"I can't. I'm not a sorcerer. I don't know why you think that, but I'm not."

He almost seemed ready to cry.

"Don't you, Merlin?" Morgana asked. "How about when Morgause and I left you chained up in the middle of the forest only to find you walking around alive and well in Camelot a while later, maybe that's why I think you're a sorcerer? How about that storm that saved your home village? Or how about the mysterious old wizard who suddenly turned up and confessed to having cast my spells? Or the spell book and the staff you have hidden in your room? Or the indestructible dragon that suddenly turned to dust, but that people still report seeing in the outer villages?"

Arthur twitched. Even now, even when all his focus was directed at the scene in front of him, the word “dragon” filled his head with memories of the roaring sound of fire rushing through the air, and the screams of knights and civilians being burned to death.

"Or what about the witch finder,” Morgana continued, “who pointed you out as a wizard only to have toads coming out of his throat? He certainly looked a bit surprised to see it, don't you think?"

Merlin shook his head over and over.

"I have no more explanations for those things than you do. Let Leon go, please."

"I'm sure you don't," replied the sugary voice. "And I'm sure you don't have an explanation for why you're on first name basis with half of the knights of Camelot either, but that's a different matter."

Someone actually _sniggered_. Arthur watched Merlin's ears turn red and vowed that he would have the person hunted down and killed.

"... what I _can't_ explain, Merlin, is how a boy from a little farmers' village became such a clever tactician. Tell me, did you plan it from the start, or did it come to you as you went along?"

**♦**

Merlin was about to ask "What?" but bit his tongue. He could see now that this was all about to fall apart like a house of cards. Right now it would be as stupid to play along with Morgana as it would be to keep adding to his lies. If she knew about the spell book, she knew everything. So he stayed quiet and let Morgana talk, because for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what would be the _smart_ thing to do.

"The first part is just too good to be a coincidence, of course,” Morgana said with a smile. “Become the crowned prince's manservant on your third day in Camelot. Win his trust. Play the adorable idiot in front of him, and cast spells behind his back, wait around until he becomes king ..."

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face. Before he knew it, he had opened his big mouth.

"No."

"... but was it always the plan to betray your own people, Merlin?" The sweetness disappeared from Morgana's voice, and the smile from her face. "To pretend that you were joining the fight against magic and let other sorcerers die like flies? To lead the knights to the druids and let them be slaughtered? To betray both sides only so that you could bask in glory beside the throne?"

_You would talk, Morgana. After how quick you've been to trust anyone_ with _magic and kill anyone without._

"You're wrong, Morgana."

As if it was following Morgana's lead, Merlin could hear his own voice transforming. The fear and confusion it had held, half real but half acted, faded away from it, leaving the cold, harsh tone he had ended up using against Morgana ever since it became clear they were no longer friends. Gwaine was standing in his line of sight, and Merlin could see his eyes widen in surprise at the change. He didn't dare look at Arthur. This was it. The lie that he had clung to for all these years was slipping out of his hands, and for a tiny moment he was scared.

"Am I?" Morgana asked, and now her voice was back to being sugar-coated, but with a decidedly bitter twist. "What _was_ the plan then? To use that position? To control Camelot from behind the throne? ..."

_No._

"... To control Arthur?"

_No._

"... Tell me, Merlin, have you been using spells on him or just old-fashioned manipulation?"

"I would never do that!"

It was a denial, but it was as good as an admission. He hadn't used spells on Arthur, but had gone behind his back, over and over, and Arthur would not just smile and forget. Morgana's eyes glowed. She had won, and she knew it.

"But you _could_ do it."

**♦**

" _You're wrong, Morgana."_

As the strange discussion – or monologue – played out in front of Arthur, the rest of the world slowly faded away. The edges of his field of vision were no longer important. Characters in the background were ignored and forgotten. There were slight changes happening in Merlin as Arthur watched: something in the way his mouth looked; how he was holding his head, how his hands moved while Morgana spoke. As her accusations continued, Arthur had the impression that Merlin was growing taller, more imposing by the minute. Instead of fidgeting, he grew more and more still, like a hunter stills when he sees his prey. And even as his voice got more and more desperate, that as well seemed to grow, to contain a new undertone, to somehow resonate around the room without being louder. But above all, Merlin hadn't looked at Arthur. Not at all. And that was always a very bad sign.

No matter how much his heart rebelled against it, his mind told him that the theories he had been forming in his head to explain what was going on were looking increasingly farfetched and Morgana's accusations increasingly reasonable. All those fleeting moments when he had been sure Merlin was hiding something from him were suddenly clear in his mind.

" _I would never do that,"_ Merlin said, and his voice had taken on a cold tone that Arthur had never heard. It sent a chill down his spine. Suddenly he wanted to turn and run away. Whatever could be said now, Arthur didn't want to hear it.

Morgana opened her mouth again. The sight of the red lips parting to speak seemed to shrink down Arthur’s world until it only consisted of the three of them. He wished she wouldn't do it. He wished she would just stop.

"But you could," she said.

_No, he couldn't._

_No._

_No._

_Please Merlin. Say something, anything, to pull me back from this ledge and make me believe that this is all a sick joke again._

Morgana cocked her head, studying Merlin.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Merlin. It must be disappointing, of course, to watch your plans being crushed like this. Poor Arthur."

Morgana looked at him and nodded as if in some twisted kind of sympathy. "He's finally having his eyes opened."

She picked up a sword.

"If you won't admit what you are, then I will force you to either show him that he's been harbouring a sorcerer – or let him watch you die."

She had hardly finished the sentence before she hurled the sword at Merlin and it was followed by several others swinging through the air. Arthur heard more than felt his own scream. Merlin's face turned towards him for a split second, and Arthur had time to notice that the blue eyes were shining with tears before they changed colour, and everything froze – the swords, the people, and Arthur's heart.

There was a thunderous noise as every weapon fell to the floor. Lancelot immediately picked one up, as did Adric who was standing protectively in front of a wide-eyed Vivian. The less awestruck knights followed suit. The swords that had been pointed at Leon vanished into thin air, and Gwaine ran up to him and pulled him to his feet. Then, with a series of strange words and a twitch of his fingers, Arthur's manservant made a ring of fire spring up around Mordred and Morgana. Morgana laughed, but it rang false: she seemed as scared as she was amused.

But Arthur barely noticed any of this.

A man with black hair and pale skin was standing in front of him. A man with eyes bluer than the sky and lips that tasted like berries, sunshine and spring water.

But it wasn't his Merlin.

It wasn't Merlin anymore.

**♦**

Merlin's heart was racing. All around him, guards were picking up their weapons. Some ran up to the fire to be ready to attack Morgana, others kept their eyes on him. He had no idea what was going to happen now, but it was probably best to just take a deep breath and let it unfold.

"The game is over, Morgana," he said.

"Yes, Merlin. It's over for you."

She reached for Mordred's hand. The druid's voice rang in Merlin's head:

_You've let your people down, Emrys. You've devoted yourself to a man who would have us killed. Now we will devote ourselves to having_ him _killed._

Wrath flowed up inside of Merlin and burst out through his mouth: incantations were leaping from his lips, loud and unrestrained, and with an infernal roar the fire exploded to twice its size and closed over Morgana and Mordred's heads just as they transported themselves away. The guards who had been standing close threw themselves away from the blaze in desperation. Somewhere, there were panicked screams.

The outburst of power left Merlin drained. He stumbled and fell to the floor, but he barely had time to breathe before two guards grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. He raised his spinning head and saw Arthur coming towards him with big strides.

Merlin had heard of other countries, far from Camelot, where the earth shook and the mountains erupted in fire and ash. He thought that witnessing that must be something like witnessing Arthur Pendragon now.


	25. The Hammer Falls

  
_“I'm not calling you a liar,_   
_just don't lie to me_   
_And I love you oh, so much_   
_I'm gonna let you kill me”._   


\- Florence + The Machine, _I'm Not Calling You A Liar_  


There was no sign of recognition in Arthur's eyes. There was no sign of _Arthur_ in Arthur's eyes. Never, in all the time Merlin had known him, had he looked so much like his father.

For some bizarre reason, Merlin almost felt like laughing when he thought that yesterday Arthur had been standing in his room, bashful and stuttering and frightened that he wouldn't be forgiven.

The tables had turned, and turned with a vengeance. Unbidden, the memory of how it had felt to be held in Arthur's arms filled Merlin's head. Would he ever feel it again now? He wanted to reach out and shake Arthur, wake him from this mutual nightmare, but the guards had his arms in a vice-like grip and fighting them would hardly serve to make Arthur more forgiving.

Around them, some servants and courtiers had begun to leave the room, still in panic, but others were watching them with obvious curiosity. Elyan and Percival escorted Olaf and his family out.

"Should we kill him now, sire?" said a knight Merlin didn't know the name of. Arthur didn't seem to hear, his eyes remained locked on Merlin's, but Gwaine heard and reacted.

"Kill him? Is this a joke?" he spat. "He just chased our worse enemy away!"

"He used magic!" another knight retorted.

Merlin looked at Arthur. He wished he knew what was in the other man's mind. Arthur’s face was blank and his eyes hollow, betraying nothing. Merlin had imagined this moment many times. He had imagined Arthur yelling at him for lying, or just refusing to believe it. He had imagined Arthur turning and walking away from him, he had imagined forgiveness and he had imagined violence. He had never imagined Arthur’s eyes could look so empty. It chilled him to the bone.

"You have been found guilty of using magic," Arthur began in a soulless voice.

"What are you doing?" Gwaine seemed ready to punch Arthur in the face, but Lancelot held him back, eyes pleading with a king who wasn’t even looking in his direction.

"Sire, please, think about this ..."

Arthur raised his voice slightly and carried on:

"According to the laws of Camelot, such practices are banned on penalty of death."

Merlin was surprised by how calm he felt. He just felt cold.

"You can't be serious!" Gwaine shouted and tried again to step in between them, but a couple of the older knights grabbed him and pulled him back. Gwen reached for Arthur's arm, her eyes big and frightened, but he shook her hand off without even turning to look at her. Merlin pitied her then.

"You will be taken out to the courtyard and ..."

Silence.

Arthur just stopped. His mouth was still slightly open, jaw moving, as if he was trying to speak, but no sound came. Merlin could see a feeling slowly emerging from the hollow depths in Arthur’s eyes now, and the feeling was _pain_. He almost started crying himself, now when Arthur couldn't, wouldn't, do it. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

This time Arthur broke eye contact with Merlin and looked at the guards.

"Take him out and have him flogged."

**♦**

Merlin sagged, relief and dread flooding over him in equal measure. The reaction from the people around them was immediate. A couple of the knights, the ones Merlin recognized as the ones who were the most afraid of magic, seemed shocked and outraged. So did Leon, Gwaine and Lancelot, but presumably for the opposite reason. Lancelot still stayed calm, but Gwaine stepped forward for the third time.

"You can't do that! Arthur, I won't let you!"

This time Arthur turned to look at him.

"I think you'll find that I can!"

Gwaine reached for his sword, and a dozen other hands did the same in response, but when he drew it out it got transformed – just like it had on the border of the Perilous Lands – into a harmless flower.

"Leave it, Gwaine," Merlin whispered. Gwaine met his gaze with a look of frustration and disbelief, but went quiet. The guards began to lead him away.

Arthur turned around and tried to walk away, but Lancelot stopped him.

"Sire, please, it's Merlin. He's never done anything but helped you. You must know that. Merlin, tell him! Say something, stop this insanity!"

Merlin really didn't know what he could possibly say.

"You knew, didn't you, Lancelot?" Arthur asked the knight. Lancelot was quiet for a moment, then answered with unwavering voice:

"Yes."

Arthur turned to another guard.

"Throw him in the dungeons too."

That had Gwen speaking up.

"Arthur, stop this. You're not thinking straight."

"You can go with him if you want to, I have enough reason to send you down there, too!" he snapped.

Gwen stared at him open-mouthed, then turned and ran out. Arthur looked at the guards holding Merlin who seemed to have frozen to the spot.

"What are you waiting for, go! Take him out of my sight!"

The guards snapped to and began moving towards the doors.

Behind him Merlin heard Sir Williams upset voice:

"You can't let him live! It's _magic_! You've all seen what he can do, he's dangerous!"

Someone, maybe Leon, tried to hush him down. There was a scuffle and the sound of metal and Lancelot cried: "Merlin, look out!"

Merlin turned his head and saw someone rushing towards him with a sword held high. He reacted on instinct, and Sir William went flying through the air. It was a short flight. There was sickening crack as he hit the wall. He didn't get up.

Merlin stared at the slumped body.

"I ... what happened?"

A grey-haired, bearded knight walked up to Sir William, touched his neck, and looked back at Arthur.

"He's been killed, my lord."

Merlin shook his head.

"No."

_He can't be. I didn't even push very hard. He can't be._

"No, that can't be ... I didn't mean that, I didn't want that, I didn't ..."

All the knights were looking at him. Some had their hands on their swords. Arthur glared at Merlin's guards.

"Just take him away already! _Now!_ "

And Merlin was finally pulled stuttering out of the room.

**♦**

Emma obviously hadn't heard much about what had been going on in the other end of the castle, because when she saw Merlin being led by two guards towards the dungeons, she dropped the big basket she was carrying in pure surprise.

"Merlin! What's happened? Where are you taking him?"

She ran towards them, but stopped when one of the guards put his hand up.

"Don't worry, Emma," Merlin said. "Just, make sure Gaius stays in his quarters today, all right?"

The guards continued past Emma and he had to turn and call to her over his shoulder:

"Don't tell him anything, don't let anyone else tell him, just keep him away! It will be fine!"

Emma nodded. She stood silent beside the overturned basket and stared after them as they turned the corner.


	26. Rage is Deaf, Love is Blind

  
_“I sold my songs to have my fortune told_   
_and it said:_   
_'you should know that love will never die_   
_but see how it kills you in the blink of an eye'”_   


\- The Cardigans, _Please Sister_  


Arthur looked at the dead body of Sir William. It lay beside a window, with the head at a strange angle. Then he looked down at his hands and saw them shake.

"My lord?" Leon walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Carry him away, Leon. And get everyone out of here. Please."

Now that the storm had blown over – at least for the moment – his voice came out quiet and subdued.

"Yes, Sire."

Leon disappeared from Arthur's view and soon a couple of knights were carefully lifting Sir William and the room was being emptied of people. Arthur looked out of the window. The sun was still beating down on the courtyard, and the people down there were fanning themselves, seeking out shadow and smiling at each other while pointing at the sky. Suddenly he remembered the dream he had woken up from that morning, and his body that had been feeling numb through this whole ordeal now seized up with pain. He had to bite his tongue in order to not flinch and cry out. His bones ached, his muscles burned. His entire body was protesting as if the very blood pumping through it had been turned into poison.

_My heart has poisoned me._

It was a strange thought, but something about it fit.

A group of knights had been talking animatedly since William had fallen, and now as most of them were leaving the room the oldest of them, Sir Hector, made his way towards Arthur.

"My lord, a word, if you will."

"Forgive me, Sir Hector, but I'd rather not right now."

The old man nodded, almost to himself, as if he was thinking about some old memory that he thought Arthur shared. But Arthur shared few memories with this man. After Morgana's short time on the throne, Camelot's army had been decimated, some of their best knights killed and his father's spirit broken. To rebuild the city and its defences as fast as possible, Arthur had called in several former knights from their estates. Hector was the eldest and most influential among them. He was of the same breed as Uther: old and grey but still tall and wide, and still a fearsome fighter.

"I understand, Sire, but I’m afraid what has just happened here is a matter of grave importance. You know I was once a knight in your father's court. I fought by your father's side many times, and I was always loyal to him and the values he instilled in us. That is why it grieves me now to see you go against his wishes, and your own sense, like this."

Arthur crossed his arms.

"What do you mean?"

"By sparing the life of a sorcerer. A sorcerer that has had the audacity to hide in our midst and laugh behind your back. A sorcerer that has killed a knight of Camelot before your very eyes. I and many of the knights with me are concerned about what could possess you to make such a strange and unprecedented choice."

Couldn't this man just leave him alone? Did he have to rub it in?

"He committed a crime and he is being punished. That is hardly unprecedented."

"But the punishment does not correspond to the crime, my lord! Traitors are rewarded with death. So are sorcerers, and so are murderers. A man who has committed all three of these crimes should surely ..."

"Sir Hector!"

Leon walked up to them.

"Sir Leon," Hector greeted.

"Sir Hector, I believe your presence is required elsewhere."

_Thank you, Leon._

Sir Hector gave the younger man a grim look, but Leon was his superior officer and stared him down.

"Forgive me, Sir Leon, but what could possibly be more important than to discuss the handling of traitors to the Crown? Of which there are at least two, might I remind you. The physician must surely have known about this."

"Gaius?" Arthur exclaimed. "Gaius is an old man, a _kind_ old man. He's nobody's enemy!"

"The last time I read the law, Your Majesty, harbouring sorcerers was still a crime against the Crown!"

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Leon beat him to it. He grabbed Sir Hector's arm and pulled him forcibly towards the door. The older man appeared to be so shocked by this treatment that he didn't even put up a fight.

"You are to leave now, Sir Hector, and that's an order! Any opinions you have can be brought up with _me_ at a later time."

Hector glared at him, but accepted defeat and left. At a gesture from Leon the last of the guards left behind him, and when the door closed only Leon and Arthur remained in the hall.

**♦**

Gwen ran. She ran through hallways she barely recognized, down stairs, into corridors. She ran past her own room because she couldn't bear to stop. Finally she ran out of breath and collapsed in a corner. As soon as her feet were still, she couldn't stop the tears anymore. She cried harder than she had since her father died. She cried so hard that her body shook. The world seemed to be falling apart around her. The court was falling apart, her marriage was falling apart, she was falling apart, and no help came.

She sat there for what felt like hours. Then at last, when she could take regular, steady breaths again, she wiped her face and got to her feet. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Her friend was in trouble and her husband was making a terrible mistake. She might not be able to stop it, but she would do what she could.

**♦**

Leon was quiet for a while, and Arthur chose to ignore him. Whatever this conversation would turn out to be, he had a feeling it was a conversation he wanted to avoid for as long as possible.

"King Olaf requested that he'd get to speak to you before they leave," Leon finally said.

Arthur hadn't even thought of them.

"Did he see ...?"

"Olaf and his family were escorted out of the hall after Morgana left. I told him that I'd ask but that he had to understand you were shaken by the sudden return of your sister. Being a man who ... cares a lot about his family, he understood that."

Even the mention of Morgana seemed something to do with a distant dream. He had almost forgotten her part in all that had just happened; only the revelation about Merlin filled his mind – that and the mess that was the political aftermath.

"That's not why I'm upset."

"I know, Sire."

Leon walked up to stand beside him, but a kept a bit of distance. As they spoke, both of them looked out the window.

"How could I have been this blind, Leon?" Arthur asked. He thought he heard Leon sigh.

"Sire, no one knew Merlin was a sorcerer. He kept it secret for a reason – one that must be as obvious to you as it is to me."

"But I knew him! I thought ... I've never known anyone like Merlin. And now it seems, I haven't known Merlin at all.

"Well ... I'm no expert, certainly. But they say that love is blind."

Arthur turned to look at him, stunned. Leon cleared his throat, and began to explain himself.

"When we first gathered around the round table – when Morgana had conquered Camelot and it seemed that all was lost – we all hurried to swear that we would follow you into battle, no matter what. All of us except Merlin. He joked about it. He dared to joke about it because he knew, and _you_ knew, that the question was never directed at him. That he was never going to do anything _but_ follow you. To the end of the world if he had to. I remember this clearly, because that's when I realised ... the way you looked at him. The way you’ve looked at him for years."

He drew a deep breath. Arthur looked down at the floor.

"It was all ...” Arthur didn’t know which words to use. “A lie? An act? A survival strategy, I don't even know. I gave him my heart, Leon. Maybe he did put a spell on me."

The last sentence was barely a whisper.

"I don't think even Merlin is that good an actor, Sire. And I think the reason you are in pain now is something far more powerful than magic. I know how you feel about him, and I realise you are hurt. But I'm here to ask that you put those feelings aside and do what's best for Camelot.

Arthur stared at him. He wasn't saying ...

"You think I should have had him killed as well?"

It came out as more of an accusation than a question, but Arthur was too much in a state of turmoil to care about his own hypocrisy.

Leon shook his head.

"No. I think you should free him _._ "

Arthur couldn’t reply. Somehow that didn't make more sense.

"My Lord,” Leon said, with an undertone of urgency in his voice that hadn’t been there before, “I think this is exactly what Morgana wants. She came here, right into the heart of Camelot, and she didn't even try to hurt you. She only went after Merlin. His powers seem similar to hers, and it’s clear he's a threat to her."

"You think I should spare him to use him as a weapon?"

Leon looked down at the courtyard. He seemed unsure as to what to say.

"I have seen Morgana kill civilians. I've seen her leave women and children dead and dying on the streets of Camelot as if it was a sport. Any enemy of hers is a friend of mine."

"Now who is being led by his feelings?"

Arthur tried to say it in a joking tone, but it fell flat. Neither of them could see the fun in this.

"If this was her plan," Leon continued, "we would be fools to play along. She's bound to be upon us soon."

He looked at Arthur.

"Not to mention that you are always a fool to turn away a true friend, even if it isn't in a time of need."

"If he really is my friend ... why didn't he trust me?"

"Like you're trusting him?"

_I did. I trusted him with my life. With my soul. I thought at least that much was requited._

"Sir Hector wouldn't be happy if I let a sorcerer remain in Camelot,” Arthur said instead, “even less if I let him use magic."

"Sir Hector is an influential man, and he might become a problem. But not nearly as much of a problem as Morgana. And besides, My Lord ...

"You can call me Arthur, Leon, if we've known each other since we were boys and if we are really discussing ... these matters, now, then you can call me Arthur."

For a second Leon looked as if someone had offered him the keys to the city. Then he quickly composed himself and picked up the thread.

"Besides, Arthur ... you’re not going to throw Merlin out of Camelot."

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"I’m not?"

"No."

"How do you know that?"

"The same way I knew you wouldn't have him executed. Because ... I don't think you'd know what to do without him."

In the courtyard below a small stage was being set up and a crowd was gathering.

"This still has to happen, you know," Arthur said.

Leon looked at his face as if he was searching for something.

"A flogging is a brutal punishment, my lord. He could get near permanent injuries."

"And if I went near him myself right now, I'm afraid I'd beat him half to death and not even be able to help myself. Hector's saying I'm too lenient, you're saying I'm too harsh – what is it you want me to do?"

Leon turned away from him with a troubled expression. Clearly he hadn't found whatever it had been that he had looked for.

"If you're going to do this to him, then you should at least have the decency to watch it."

It would have been an almost impertinent line, if Leon hadn’t sounded so defeated.

Leon began to leave.

"You're missing the obvious," Arthur called out after him.

"And what is that, Sire?"

"It doesn't matter if I would let Merlin stay or not. He's not going to stay and be flogged when he can just ..."

He made a hand gesture: "... magic himself away. Far away. And never come back."

"If you say so, sire."

Arthur didn't reply. The sound of the door closing echoed through the empty room. He remained by the window, looking at the sunlit town below and seeing nothing but darkness. No one came in to disturb him for a long, long time.

**♦**

Gwen ran out into the sun. The tall, red-haired man who was Camelot's hangman stood in the middle of the courtyard and directed the people who were putting up the small stage where public punishments were performed.

"Kay!"

The hangman turned around with a hand shading his eyes. He bowed when he recognized her.

"Your highness. How may I help?"

"You can stop this!"

A woman walking by with a basket full of eggs gave them a curious look. Kay shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but today my orders come from a higher authority than yours."

"Oh, stop calling me that! You used to see me every day. When I was a kid I used to run around your feet in the forge when you helped my father. You're a good man, you wouldn't punish someone who was innocent!"

He looked confused. Someone else called his name, but he gave them a dismissive wave that ended with him wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

"I thought this bloke had used magic in front of the entire court."

"He's not 'some bloke' Kay! It's Merlin. He's a good person. I don't care what he's done, he doesn't deserve this."

"I have to follow the King's order, Gwen. I mean, My Lady. If I don't then it will just be somebody else. I have to go now ..."

He began to walk, but Gwen grabbed his sleeve.

"Wait! Arthur ... The King isn't himself right now. He'll regret this later, I know he will. Just ... don't hurt him. Don't hurt him more than you absolutely have to, promise me!"

Kay nodded.

"I promise."

**♦**

The men guarding the dungeons seemed decidedly uneasy about having one powerful sorcerer and two of the most skilled and respected knights of Camelot under their watch. They sat at the little table where they would usually be playing dice or having a drink, but now they were too on edge to do anything but glance at the prisoners. They never looked at Merlin, but they kept a constant watch on the two knights. For a while Lancelot thought it was odd that they would ignore the person most capable of breaking out, but then he realised – they were too afraid of him.

Afraid of Merlin. The words themselves seemed contradictory. He knew Merlin could be dangerous – but not to the undeserving. What had happened today was just an accident. The exception that proved the rule. In his very heart, Lancelot knew this to be true. What bothered him was that Merlin didn't seem as sure. Since they had been put here, he had sat in a corner with his knees pulled up to his chin. The first thing he'd said was:

"I'm a murderer, Lancelot."

And when Lancelot had protested, Merlin had shook his head and told him about all the other times he had had to kill someone, of dead bodies left behind and never thought of again – until now. Because this time, he couldn't rush on to save the day and tell himself it had been worth it.

Gwaine had paid little interest to this conversation, except to say: "sometimes people die, Merlin. It wasn't your fault this time." Lancelot doubted it had been helpful. Now Gwaine was pacing up and down his cell – he had to turn quite often – and looked as if he himself could kill an entire army if it got in his way. And then suddenly he kicked the bars and exclaimed:

"I can't believe I was so _fooled_!"

Merlin looked up at him.

"I'm sorry."

"Not by you, idiot. Though I didn’t really see that coming either. But Arthur!"

Lancelot and Merlin were giving him matching confused looks.

"I was _so sure_ that he was ..."

He looked at Lancelot and interrupted himself.

"... that he really liked you."

Merlin let out a sad little laugh.

"He does."

Gwaine kicked the bars again.

"He has an interesting way of showing it."

Lancelot got the distinct impression that they were talking in code about something he'd missed.

"I've lied to him for years. He's angry. I don't blame him. And besides, I killed someone. If anything, this punishment is too mild."

Lancelot walked up to the bars between his cell and Merlin's, getting as close as he could. He could just about touch Merlin's shoulder.

"I think you're right not to blame Arthur. But you shouldn't blame yourself either."

Gwaine huffed.

"Don't blame yourself, but by all means, _do_ blame Arthur. He has no defence for acting like ..."

He spun around and looked at the stairs. A group of guards were coming down. Keys rattled and Merlin's cell was unlocked. Merlin stood up and was led away by the guards. Lancelot and Gwaine watched them leave.

" _'Too mild'_ ," Gwaine muttered. "A flogging can kill you! A _mild_ punishment would have been to just kick him out of town with a warning. I've had enough of both to know." He sat down in the hay strewn on the floor. Lancelot looked at him.

"I don't think so. The way he's devoted to Arthur – that would have been the worst punishment of all."

Gwaine gave him a puzzled look. Then a light spread over his face, he leaned back with his hands behind his head and laughed.

Now Lancelot was convinced he had missed something.

"What?"

"Oh, Lancelot. If ever there was a pair of stubborn idiots ..."

"I don't follow you."

"Let's just say," Gwaine said as he picked up a piece of fresh straw, inspected it and put it between his teeth, "by the time those two solve their problems, your problem will be solved too."

Lancelot still didn't follow, but Gwaine suddenly seemed hopeful and that was probably a good sign.


End file.
